All in a Day's Work
by city with no people
Summary: A series of drabbles and oneshots about our favorite military group! [Royai, possible other pairings]
1. Chapter 1

A/N: a short drabble about Riza's life set many years after the mangaverse. No spoilers. Enjoy!

Fluff Warning

**And the Word Was "Miniskirt"**

They were whispering again.

They were supposed to be her friends. Her colleagues. People who she could trust her life to.

And they were hiding something from her. Something big. She knew what it was—trouble. For her.

She neared the desk where they were congregated as quietly as she could. If she could only get within hearing-range, she was sure she could figure out their hushed conversation.

Step by step. She silently neared her friends, certain they were talking about her.

She detected one word. A word she hated to hear come from the mouth of a man she respected.

And the word was "Miniskirt."

She stepped on a piece of paper, the crunching sound broke the silence. Her scheme revealed, the men at the desk two meters away looked up. Horror overcame their faces as they began to wonder what she'd heard. The men looked at their leader, hoping he would rescue them from her fury.

He was as pale as they were. Finally she questioned him.

"**What** was that about miniskirt, sir?" she asked, her tone more threatening than curious.

"Hawkeye, it's not what you think," he began, "I-we-um…"

Her hand went to her gun holster. Without any hesitation, she whipped her pistol up and snapped the safety off, taking aim just to the left of Mustang's ear. She opened fire.

He yelped. The others fled. He dared not move.

As soon as she knew they were alone, she slowly approached her colonel. She put her gun away and wrapped her arms around his neck. He returned the gesture. She leaned in as she whispered,

"That's no way to plan your wife's birthday present."

She said as she smiled to her husband.

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A/N: Read and Review, onegai. 

Thanks to chibi neko-dono for her input on my stories!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: this story's kinda angsty in comparison to the last chapter...an expression of Roy's cause.

thanks to you people who reviewed the on last chapter!

**The Man Who Would Be Fuhrer**

Roy Mustang was a person of great renown in Central, and even more so in East City, where he had spread his influence for over five years. With every criminal apprehended, with every alchemist he recruited for the military, he grew closer to his goal.

His goal, you ask? Simple—he wished to rule the country as Fuhrer.

Why, you ask? One of his subordinates did too one day; the Colonel's answer surprised him:

"When I am Fuhrer, I will make all female personnel wear miniskirts!!" he exclaimed passionately.

Havoc had been fooled by the lie; but Hawkeye knew better. She played along with the Flame Alchemist's scheme and walked by in irritation; but it was all an act.

Riza Hawkeye had served Roy Mustang for a decade. She'd known him even before that. She admired and respected the man for his honesty and passion. She knew his real reason for aspiring to rule the country. He had told her and Hughes long ago.

He wanted to stop the senseless violences that gripped his country. As a boy, he had hoped that alchemy would benefit the people; Ishbal had shattered that hope as well as his faith in alchemy. Now, he wished to end those wars that could be avoided—if alchemy was not for the benefit of the people, then Roy Mustang must make up for it. It was his penance for the lives he had taken.

Riza believed in his goal and protected his back. He had told her that the easy role of guardian was to defend the person you care about; the hard part was if the person grew corrupt, for then it was the guardian's responsibility to end his struggle for power using any means necessary. Sacrifices for the greater good.

That was why, in her eyes, he was not a hero because of Ishbal—rather a hero _formed in_ Ishbal. She would support his dream, combining it with hers and trying desperately to achieve it. No matter the cost.

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A/N: if you liked it, please review. I need to know if I should keep writing this story. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: set just after Hayate's adoption. Breda's opinion of the occurrence...I hope you like!

**Suppressed Memories**

The events of the previous day had left Breda….high and dry, to say the least. It took much coaxing from his alarm clock to wake him up this morning, and the first thing he felt was the hangover the alcohol gave him. Breda foggily remembered feeling the urge to drink some horrible memory away, but he couldn't quite remember what it was…

He rolled out of bed; he had to get to work. He squinted at the day calendar on his desk. Friday. Well, at least he got tomorrow off. He hurriedly grabbed a sandwich and dashed out the door, tucking in his uniform shirt as he ran to Head Quarters.

What was it he had tried to forget? The second lieutenant had succeeded in purging his mind of the dreadful memory, but now what he'd forgotten was irking him; like some unheeded warning.

He made it to the office on time—early, even. Hawkeye had yet to come in. Fuery was also there, but the second lieutenant rarely associated with the newbie. He still had two much to learn. Why, yesterday, the boy had brought in a dog!

Realization hit Breda in the gut. _That_ was why he had a hangover! He'd wanted to get the image of the beast out of his mind.

_Oh well, that day has passed. It's out of my hair now…_

Or so he thought.

The few minutes before six hundred hours passed slowly. Breda stuffed the remains of his sandwich into his mouth (no food or drink on military head quarters). Fuery had attempted to speak with his colleague, to no avail.

Eventually, Havoc shuffled in, looking as out of place as he would in a library. The smell of tobacco soon followed him. Falman was punctual, entering the office precisely one minute before the clock stuck six. Half an hour later, Mustang scuffed in, looking as if he'd left his mind at home.

"Has anyone seen R—First Lieutenant Hawkeye?" the Lt. Colonel asked as he entered the room, quickly realizing it was devoid of his favorite female subordinate.

An hour later, people began to wonder if she would be coming in to work today. It was unlike her to be late; even less like her not to call when she would be absent. Mustang began to worry.

At nine o'clock, the male soldiers were almost in a panic. Not only would they get no work done without their taskmaster, but they were concerned for her health. Roy was about to dismiss everyone early when the door to the office creaked open.

In marched Riza Hawkeye. She bore no sign of injury, and seemed to be in perfect health. She caught the men eying her curiously. However, she was more than accustomed to working around male colleagues and ignored this fact, choosing instead to focus on the matter of explaining her tardiness to her commanding officer. She spoke in hushed tones with the flame alchemist, though Havoc could've sworn he heard "obedience training" mentioned.

Breda suddenly noticed what was wrong with Hawkeye's entrance (other than her tardiness). She'd left the door open—a most un-Hawkeyeish thing to do. Set on rectifying this flaw, Breda walked to the door, intent on closing it.

A harsh command from the lieutenant stopped him. She ordered, "Hayate-gou!"

In marched a small black and white mutt; the same dog Fuery had brought in the previous morning. Breda paled, fearful of his proximity to the animal. The dog trotted past, bearing himself with a manner similar to Riza's, if more friendly. It almost pranced, walking proudly towards its owner. Mustang stood from his desk.

"Gentlemen! I would like to announce the newest member of our team: Black Hayate. Any complaints, you can talk with the Lieutenant," the would-be-Fuhrer announced.

Breda decided that he should get over his fear of dogs—it was that, find another job, or face Hawkeye and her pistol.

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A/N: I'm sorry it took so long for me to update. I kinda lost track of time...-sweatdrops- 

please review!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: set before the manga/anime. No spoilers.

**Rules**

"Regulation 307, Subsection 9-C:

Fraternization between two fellow officers of the Amestris Military or any association identifying with the previously named group is restricted. A charge of fraternization between two officers may be indicted at court and is punishable by court marshal. By order of Fuhrer, King Bradley, August, 1889."

Her eyes skimmed the pamphlet yet again.

"Fraternization between two fellow officers of the Amestris Military…is restricted." She drilled over and over until the phrase was practically a part of her being.

Riza Hawkeye had recently applied for the army; she knew there was a war being waged in the East—not too far from her home. She wanted to protect her homeland. Her only family member was already a General in the military; she had no occupation to speak of. Why shouldn't she defend her country?

Her application was accepted almost immediately. Soon to follow would be her active drills, when new soldiers learned to fire weapons (she already knew that one), survival training, and various other necessary skills. She would learn all of these within a few weeks, so desperate was the need for troops to be sent to Ishbal.

She was determined to memorize the manual. It was a guideline for appropriate reactions in situations—a realistic answer for every possible situation she could find herself in was in this book somewhere. She needed every advantage she could get.

Riza Hawkeye graduated at the top of her unit. She was immediately appointed the rank of "Sergeant" and sent to snipe at the front lines. It was a difficult and gory task; she took many lives. Yet it was all in the textbook. She was doing nothing wrong. She was abiding by the regulations, and reacting appropriately to every situation thrown at her.

However, when Riza Hawkeye once again set eyes on Roy Mustang, the rulebook flew out the window, and Regulation 307, Subsection 9-C was forgotten.

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A/N: reviews are important! remember: reviewers and authors are co-dependent! 


	5. Chapter 5

**Hot Chocolate**

It was quite brisk in Eastern Head Quarters.

Break time consisted of people frantically trying to warm themselves. The oversized blue uniforms were all for show—during the winter, they froze; during the summer, they suffered heat stroke.

Roy Mustang liked coffee; but there were about thirty of his subordinates surrounding the coffee grinder. He didn't fancy waiting that long for a drink.

The pantry at EHQ was sadly limited. However, in his desperate search for a hot beverage, he found exactly what he needed.

A bag of instant hot chocolate mix.

He boiled water on the unused stove. Grabbing a military-issued mug from the cabinet, he poured the liquid into his glass and sighed in anticipation. He ripped the bag open.

Or he would have.

The paper would not give. He pulled and he pulled, he tore at the paper with all his strength. The laminate seal resisted his efforts. One of his subordinates noticed his vain attempt, pointed at him, and laughed: "Useless!"

A large vein twitched in his forehead; he marched up to his officer and shoved the envelope of instant hot chocolate under the man's nose.

"You do it!" he ordered.

The man smirked, then focused his efforts on the small bag. His smirk soon slipped, however, and he began to pull on it. Harder and harder. No matter the amount of effort the soldier put into opening the packet, his endeavor failed.

It became a game. Everyone in the break room wanted a chance to try to open the package. Roy watched in dismay as his subordinates fought over his snack.

The game became all-out-war. Roy found himself involved in what was now a battle royale. Punches flew, insults were launched, and disorder reigned in the small cubicle as Mustang desperately tried to quell his underlings.

"What in the name of…?" A shocked voice emanated from the doorway. Riza Hawkeye glared at her colleagues, Black Hayate at her heel. The noise and fights ceased to be of importance.

"What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded. One man slowly raised a finger and pointed at the small, innocent-looking package of instant hot chocolate mix.

She closed her eyes, grimacing at the idiocy of her friends. Stiffly, she approached the man now holding the packet, swiped it out of his grasp, and easily tore open the bag without blinking. She retreated as quickly as she had come, the sound of the door closing the only herald of her absence. The men gaped at her.

Riza Hawkeye: First Lieutenant of Amestris Military, graduated at the top of her unit, awarded three medals for honorable combat during Ishbal, Roy Mustang's babysitter.

And now the nemesis of all hot chocolate bags.

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A/N: ...Idk...I can just see this happening...

tell me what you think! helpful criticism welcome!


	6. Chapter 6

**Fuery's Collection**

Kain Fuery had missed two days of work in a row—without calling in sick. Such behavior was unusual for the newbie. He was always sure to alert the office as to why he wasn't coming in.

This strange conduct came to the attention of one Jean Havoc.

"Boss, why hasn't the new kid come in this week? Did you fire him and forget to tell us or somethin'?"

Roy didn't even glance up from his journal entry. "No, Havoc, I did not fire him, although I might fire you if you don't sit down and do some work."

Jean continued to smoke, glaring at his superior officer. It was only a question; no need to get so angry about it. _PMS'ing…_

As if she had read his thoughts, Riza glared from behind her paperwork. "Havoc, why don't you visit him. Make certain he's alright and find out when he'll come back to work."

It was more of a threat than a suggestion. Honestly, who gave out orders in this mixed up outfit he had no clue…

This was the reason why Havoc was where he was at this moment. In the cold, damp corridor of EHQ dormitories, knocking at room 2-15, smoking the last cigarette of his pack, impatiently tapping the heel of his military-issue boot.

He was in a bad temper. While looking for this place, he had flirted with the pretty girl at the directory, asked her on a date, and been rejected; all within the course of two minutes.

He raised his fist to knock once more on the door. If that stupid newbie didn't open this door within thirty seconds, Havoc was going to…well, he didn't know exactly what he'd do; but whatever it was, it would not be pleasant.

Fortunately for Fuery, the door swung open of its own accord, revealing a scene that made Havoc's jaw drop, along with his cigarette.

It was at this ideal Kodak moment that the Master Sergeant made his way up the stairs, carrying a bag of groceries in one arm, and messing with his keys in the other. He glanced up to see his colleague and, not noticing the look on Havoc's face, he called out to he older man.

"Hello, Lieutenant, sir!" he smiled momentarily. Then he realized it.

Havoc was at his doorway.

Havoc was at his **_open_** doorway.

Havoc was staring through his **_open_** doorway.

Oh, snap.

Fuery dropped his keys and grocery bag, leapt forward and slammed the door shut, protectively standing in front of it, his arms stretching across the entrance.

The noise of slamming aroused Havoc from his shocked trance. He stared in horror at the young man in front of him. Never in all his life had he seen anything so terrifying as what was in that boy's room. Havoc's mind screamed out the word "ILLEGAL!"

Havoc, desperate to distract himself from that sight, stamped out his cigarette. It's not like he could enjoy smoking anymore now. Not after…that.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc, sir," Fuery started, his tone defensive, "I-I would appreciate it if you didn't mention what you saw in my room."

Havoc slowly smirked. He would appreciate it, eh? Well, now he had blackmail information on the kid.

The next day at work, the blonde soldier found himself practically skipping. He had enough cartons of smokes to last him until the end of the month. All thanks to Master Sergeant Fuery, who had bribed his superior's silence with a store's worth of cigarettes.

Now is the part where I tell you what Havoc saw in that room; it's my duty to describe it, because, quite frankly, I doubt very seriously that you'll ever convince the Second Lieutenant to tell you. That moment has become one of his many suppressed memories.

Inside that forsaken dorm room, piled, stacked, and almost overflowing, were kittens puppies, mice, birds, a litter of raccoons, a fox kit, and what looked like a baby badger. The sergeant, with his huge and animal-loving soft heart, had discovered each and every one of these helpless, abandoned creatures and taken them in to nurture them back to health. Their presence explained not only Fuery's absence, but also the fur and strange smell of his uniform.

Within the week, they would be gone, completely healthy and ready to return to the wild, thanks to the young man's help. And Havoc would be somewhere (hopefully on a date), enjoying one of the smokes that the poor boy had bought him.

Gotta love the boy for his giving heart.

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A/N: that thought kinda just came to me. I really like Fuery's love for animals, and I just had to try writing a fanfic about it. Plus, I realized I had like two Royai fics in a row, and I kinda wanted a little variety. 

Review, if you like.


	7. Chapter 7

**Party Time**

Thursday morning rolled by, little work was accomplished in the small Easter Head Quarters office that housed Roy Mustang and his five subordinates. Paperwork was trashed, burned, and hidden (when Riza wasn't looking, of course).

When the strict First Lieutenant left for her routine practice round at the shooting range, however, all quiet was dispelled from the room. A radio was broken out, and food was de-stashed; in other words, absolute chaos enveloped EHQ without Riza to quell it.

She returned, and the music ended.

Or at least, it should have.

And she would never have learned of their daily frivolity, were it not for Roy Mustang.

Riza walked to Roy's desk, placing her perfectly filled out forms into an organized stack on the corner. She turned to file more papers, when she heard a strange, disturbing noise—a shrill, nasal sound emitting from the area around Roy's desk. She stopped in her tracks, and slowly approached the Lt. Colonel.

"Sir!"

"Hm?" he looked up from his 'work', meeting the woman's penetrating gaze with a look of absolute boredom and what he hoped was innocence. The noise stopped.

"Please do not hum in the office, sir."

"Oh. Alright."

Hawkeye kneeled on the ground and inspected a spot on the flooring. She stood, triumphant.

"Sir!"

"Yes, Hawkeye?"

"Why is there a chip under your desk, sir?" She held out the accused object; Roy paled slightly.

"Uh…Hayate was hungry and Fuery told me to…" the pathetic lie trailed off.

"Sir, Hayate is not here today."

"Oh. Well…it was yesterday," he protested.

"Sir, the cleaning crew came yesterday evening."

"Well…" His mind was quickly running out of excuses.

She leaned across his desk, her presence menacing, her glare piercing him. He was fearful for his life right now. She was only three inches from him, perfect poker face worn on her face. Her voice lowered to a whisper, so low only he could hear it.

"Next time you plan a party during work," she began; he swallowed hard. She smirked, satisfied with his reaction, and continued:

"Invite me too."

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A/N: you know the drill; review if you want. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Temporary Leave of Absence**

Ever wondered what happens when Riza Hawkeye misses work?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing is accomplished on such a day. Roy Mustang sits at his desk sulking because he doesn't have his secretary/interest/babysitter. The ever-increasing pile of paperwork remains a constant reminder of her absence.

He always knew when she would be gone; she always called in. The knowledge, however, did not make her appear suddenly.

As for his subordinates, they took it as a day off. Without Riza to tell them to work, it was like Mustang had burned all the paperwork—there was no way they would accomplish anything. They would much rather use the time to scheme and discuss their love lives (or lack thereof).

Yes, Riza Hawkeye certainly was the driving force of this team.

Which is why, perhaps, when she was hospitalized with influenza she received so many Get-Well cards, flowers, candy, and other such gifts.

Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery all purposed to visit her at least once a day. Havoc would tell her of his girl troubles, and inquire advice. Breda sneaked fresh rolls and coffee in for her. Falman sent her books of poetry. Fuery brought Black Hayate to visit his master. But one person never came to see her.

And that person was Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist.

_Why should he visit me, anyways? I'm only his subordinate, his bodyguard. There is no need for him to check in on me. I should not be so selfish._

Riza made a full recovery within a week, much to her friends' pleasure. She returned to work the following Monday to find that the men had done no work whatsoever. Not that she had expected them to do it in the first place. She sat wearily at her desk, her puppy trotting at her heel. She reached into the inbox, expecting to find it overflowing with documents needing to be proofread and signed.

To her surprise, however, she found there were no papers for her to read, no reports to check. Stunned, she approached Mustang's desk.

"Sir! There is no paperwork?"

"And, Lieutenant?" he asked, slowly turning his chair to face her.

"Did you burn it?" she glared suspiciously.

"No, Hawkeye. It was all filled out and filed yesterday."

"By who?!" she interrogated, her mask of indifference dropping momentarily.

"I did it; Havoc, Fuery, Breda, and Falman were visiting you and I knew that if the work wasn't done, you'd be stuck with it when you came back," he said simply.

She gaped at him. Cold, business-minded Riza stared at him with shoulders slumped and mouth open. It was one of Mustang's favorite memories in his later life.

"Y-you did it, sir?" she finally stuttered, "But! But you hate your paperwork!"

"That's petty; if something needs to be done, it needs to be done."

She slowly turned on her heel, walked to her desk and collapsed into the chair. She must be delusional. Roy doing his work? Ridiculous! Maybe she should've taken another week off…

Roy smiled at her reaction. "Oh, and Hawkeye," he called softly; she hesitantly looked up at him. Amber eyes met obsidian as he firmly stated, "I'm glad you're back."

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A/N: let's hear it for Royai! This story just kinda came out of nowhere...seriously. I thought it was gonna be something else, and then it turned into this thing you just read. In fact, I even wrote this on my sister's boyfriend's laptop. So, yep...if you liked it, please tell me! I like reviews -happy authoress- 


	9. Chapter 9

**Late Night Snack**

"Pizza's here!!" a voice rang out from the entryway. Riza dug into her billfold, quickly pulling out the necessary amount as she crossed the threshold. She paid the sleep-deprived delivery boy and gave him a generous tip.

_Oh thank heavens for pizza…_

It was Friday, two-thirty in the morning and Hawkeye was ready for the weekend. More than ready, actually. The week had been full of immature pranks, kidnappings, robberies, espionage, and smuggling—not to mention the things the criminals did. She was going to eat her late-night snack, shower, and then go to sleep. Blessed sleep.

She carried the hot cardboard box over to her kitchen table. Her stomach growled as she opened the package. This pizza would taste so good. She picked up a slice, cheese practically dripping with grease. She raised it to her mouth and…

A knock at the door. She audibly groaned. _I do not need this right now._ She marched over to her door, unlocked and threw it open.

She was shocked to see her colonel, hand raised ready to knock again. She was frustrated to find him holding a manila envelope. Honestly, if he was here to make some lame excuse as to why all his paperwork 'vanished' yesterday, she'd slam the door on his face.

"Hawkeye, I was wondering if you could look over this manuscript for me," he stated.

"Sir, if this is about-" she stopped. What did he say? "M-manuscript? What manuscript?"

"This one. The fuhrer ordered our unit to put on a play, remember?"

She shook her head. No, she did not remember that. She snatched the paper. Maybe she missed that moment or something. Her eyes scanned the title.

'_The Little Engine that Could'_

"WHAT?!!" she yelled. How could they possibly put this into production. Roy slumped in her doorway. She glared at him, now asleep on her doorjamb. Stupid, lazy…

He cut her off, snatching the papers away from her and grabbing her pizza before she could draw her guns (yes, she even wears them at home). He leapt down the stairs that led to her apartment and was long gone before she could even cry out. He took her pizza.

Suddenly, Riza woke up from her nightmare. Unhappily, she pounded her pillow and rolled into a more comfortable position. Her stomach growled.

"I want pizza," she murmured to herself as she tried to fall back asleep.

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A/N: sorry that it took so long to update this story; I got side-tracked and my editor had...other stuff. but it's here now. I hope you liked it! 


	10. Chapter 10

**Litter Duty**

Kain carried the bag out to the garbage bin, dumping the litter into the large container outside the dorms. He brushed off his hands; he really hated cleaning up after his little illegals. But ever since the Havoc incident, Fuery had been forced to be even more careful. Which meant covering smells. Which meant doing the litter box more. Which meant an unhappy Master Sergeant.

He marched back into his dorm room. Even Fuery had to admit that his room was absolutely overrun with animals. He couldn't help it. It's not like it was his fault that he was good at finding strays and bad at saying no to 'puppy dog eyes'. He didn't care that it was breaking (or bending, as he preferred to say) the rules about no pets. He didn't care that when he entered his room, it would be crawling with creatures. He didn't really care right now, he was so tired.

Carelessness is a grave mistake.

He swung the door open, softly calling, 'hello' to all his pets. Unfortunately, one of the kittens he was nursing back to health saw the loose thread on his uniform pants and darted toward the string, ready to play. The kitten tumbled into the hallway, jumping at the dangling string. It didn't know that kitties weren't allowed in the military.

Behind Fuery, someone gasped. Fuery's spine tingled, his eyes widened in horror. He'd been caught red-handed. Again.

He slowly turned to face the witness, scenarios frantically running through his head. Could he explain this? Was there any way for him to coerce this person into ignoring his violation of policy? And—for goodness' sake—who on earth was the person who had every right to expel him from the military?

Who indeed. The face that met his eyes was unfamiliar, belonging to a woman in her early twenties. Her jet-black hair was neatly cropped around her face; random freckles flawed her otherwise perfect complexion. Green eyes were framed by thin wire glasses. She wore the female uniform and carried a clipboard. At the moment, however, the clipboard lay on the ground, replaced by the kitten she was now stroking lovingly. The cat purred contented in her grasp.

Fuery met her intense gaze hesitantly, unsure of what to expect from the—er…cat lover.

"You're not supposed to have a cat in the dorms," she said in a monotone. His expression darkened. He should have expected as much. Well…there went his entire military career.

"But," he looked back into her emerald-green eyes, "I won't tell." She grinned mischievously.

He could hardly believe what she said; his eyes widened, shocked, before a giddy smile slid across his face. The smile seemed to brighten the entire room.

"So, what's this guy's name?" she asked.

"Ne?"

"The cat."

"Oh…Helix," he stated. "It's 'cause his tail was broken; his tail sort of swirls now."

"I see."

Fuery reached over to take the kitten out of her arms. He lifted the cat out, stopped to thank the woman for swearing not to snitch; he was shocked to find the girl **_blushing_**. His courage rocketed, and on a whim, he blurted.

"Would you want to go out with me?"

She stared, horrified at what he said. He looked at his feet and began apologizing, "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over m-"

The woman cut him off, "NO! Idloveto! Er…I mean…" she blushed scarlet. "I'd love to."

From that day on, Fuery began the old saying, "If you're lucky, you'll do the litter box."

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A/N: sorry about the delay; I do have a reason. Two, actually. My editor had some sport stuff and couldn't get to the computer...and then yesterday fanfiction wouldn't let me upload anything...

yeah...this chappy was FueryxOc...the boy needs love too, right? don't worry--next story'll be Royai...I think...


	11. Chapter 11

**In Sickness and in Health**

Roy loved it when Riza got sick.

He was not mean-spirited; he hated seeing her suffer. But a part of him, the part that didn't like getting shot at, kind of liked her more docile personality—a personality that was only evoked by a slight illness. Like the common cold.

One of the many great things about Riza was the fact that she always adapted. She improvised. In this case, she determined to work, despite her symptoms (unlike the rest of her colleagues, who were all currently taking the week off).

She was sitting at her desk, filing yet more paperwork. Roy stood and stretched, his military uniform was uncomfortable. She didn't even glance up as he walked over to her desk. She felt miserable; her nose was stuffy, she had a mild headache (not necessarily painful, just enough to make it harder to focus). She didn't react when he placed his hands on her desk and began speaking to her.

She listened, sort of. He droned on and on about his last date. She kept scribbling on the page, intent on at least getting some work done for this outfit. Normally, she probably would have snapped at him to get back to work; but right now, she was just too tired.

That was exactly what Roy wanted.

He plowed on through the mindless drivel, hoping to catch the sniper off guard. "Anyways, like I said, this girl she was really annoying; kept talking about wanting to get married someday with her true love. 'Partners for life!'" Roy glanced sideways at his lieutenant. "So what do you think about that, Hawkeye?"

"Hn," she replied noncommittally. She had heard every word he said; she just hadn't really paid that much attention to it.

Roy's scheme proved successful. He suppressed a smirk.

"I think you and I should be life partners, Hawkeye."

Riza's attention wasn't piqued. She kept writing, although his statement did gain a snort of dry humor. She stared at the page, "Sir, you and I are already 'life partners'. Stuck in the military, remember? It's not like we can just leave anytime."

"I thought you'd say that, Lieutenant." Roy walked back to his desk smirking openly. Success!

Riza finished the report she had edited; she stapled the papers together and placed them neatly into the stack of finished work. She stretched and grabbed a tissue.

It was only as she was coughing into the fabric that she realized what Roy had said.

She sank heavily into her chair, the memory replaying in her head.

Without another thought she stood and strode to her superior's desk. "Sir, what did you—" she began.

"Yes."

"Sir?"

"Yes. I did ask you that."

Riza inwardly gasped. Her mask dropped for a moment, and her expression was one of absolute confusion.

"So then you mean—"

"Yes." Roy stood from his desk and grabbed the blonde woman by the shoulders. "I asked if you would marry me, Riza."

Riza stared into his black eyes with disbelief. Slowly, she turned around and walked back to her desk. When she reached it, she extended her right hand and began toying with the grain of the wood. Roy smiled in anticipation. Yes, everything was going according to plan. She would turn around with happy tears in her eyes and slowly say, "Roy, of course I want to m—"

"Sir."

Roy stopped the creepy daydream. Riza's voice was cold and harsh; the same tone she used when she punished Hayate. Roy frowned. He hadn't expected this…

"I told you," she paused. Roy gulped. Told him what? His every dream and fantasy froze as he considered what might happen if she said no.

"I told you," she turned slowly, happy tears in her eyes as she slowly said, "We're already partners for life, Roy Mustang."

His obsidian eyes widened with shock. "You're saying—?"

"Yes." It was her turn to interrupt him. She walked up to him and stared up into his eyes. "Yes, I'll marry you, Roy."

One of the many great things about Riza was the fact that she always adapted. Whether it was facing a cold or a proposal, she always managed to knock Roy off his feet.

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A/N: another Royai chapter, as promised! I hope that you liked it! If you did, feel free to give me your input. I love reviews! 


	12. Chapter 12

**Recruited **

"Two tacos, por favor."

His weak attempt at a joke earned him a stare. The first attempt at a secret date was going about as well as his jokes.

She had chosen the location, date, and time in typical Riza fashion. All Roy had had to do was show up and look handsome—two arts he'd perfected over his career in the military. The Flame Alchemist had even been early. No, there was no fault in the plan or the enacting of it. But something was definitely off.

Neither was speaking.

It wasn't an angry silence. It wasn't an awkward silence.

Just silence.

Roy started fidgeting, mentally checking everything he'd done._ On time? Early. Right place? Duh, she's here. Handsome? Why, yes, if I may say so. Fresh breath? I think I ate all my tic-tacs. Flowers? Roses._

He'd done everything by the book. Why was she staring at him like he was gum on the bottom of her boot?

The quiet lingered as the waiter served their orders. She quietly placed hers before reverting to watching Roy, now eating his tacos uneasily.

Roy was used to women observing him with rapture. Riza was staring, no look evident in her features. That, combined with the fact that she looked positively gorgeous was more than enough to make Mustang squirm uncomfortably.

She daintily ate her chicken enchiladas, only toying with her salad. Her even gaze continued through dinner.

"Would you like more water?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied, nodding gratefully at the waiter.

"So what are you—" Roy's umpteenth feebly try at conversation was abruptly interrupted as the apron-wearing, skinny teenage bus-boy spilled his pitcher of ice water.

All. Over. Roy and Riza.

The poor boy—he tried to wipe the ice off the table, apologizing over and over with the knowledge that he was fired for sure.

Roy and Riza's eyes met; something clicked in the minds of each. Their reactions mirrored one another's as they both burst out with laughter.

The rest of the evening rolled by quite enjoyably, save for the wetness. As they left the quaint restaurant, they paused by a familiar figure, moping in the semi-darkness of the street lamp.

As Roy and Riza approached, the figure stood and began apologizing once more. Roy interrupted the teen. "You were fired, right?"

"Yes, sir…" the boy sadly replied, hastily readjusting his thick glasses that were clouded with tears.

"Stop moping!" Roy suddenly yelled. Riza was shocked at his rude behavior. However, the boy obeyed, immediately standing at attention. Roy surveyed him curiously.

"Are you with anything?"

"Yes, sir…" he hesitated, "I have a knack for electric wiring and such, but there's no future in it…"

"Are you interested in the military?"

The ex-waiter's eyes shot open, with a speed rivaling Riza's reload time. "S-sir?"

"My name is Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. If you ever want to join, call my office; this lovely lady will walk you through the procedure." Riza blushed scarlet. The boy was elated. "But you'd better get used to calling me 'sir'," Roy concluded, smirking.

"Yes, sir!!"

And that is how Kain Fuery joined the military outfit.

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A/N: this may seem random, but it really isn't. I wrote it in a Mexican restaurant and that had a lot of influence on it.

disclaimer: this story was based partly off a true story.


	13. Chapter 13

**A Rainy Day**

He hung up the phone just as another clap of thunder shook the building.

It was raining cats, dogs, and horses at Eastern Head Quarters, and had been doing so for the past week. Work, however, still had to be done; the military stopped for no man, woman, child, or, apparently, rainstorm.

Today's storm was excessively fierce, though. The past showers had been intermittent, sudden and violent, but soon over. This rain, however, did not seem to be letting up anytime soon. In addition, it wasn't just any old rain shower—it was a lightning storm.

The electricity danced in the distance all throughout the morning. Mustang paid it no mind; he'd seen many storms. Most of his subordinates had skipped work today, on the preface that 'they were flooded in at their houses'. It was a lie, and he knew it. Mustang didn't report them, all he did was envy them.

One of his officers, of course, was there. Riza Hawkeye, his most loyal, sat at her desk focusing more intently than ever on her paperwork, Black Hayate at her heels, cowering under the desk in apprehension at the approaching storm.

Roy was surprised by her earnestness. Maybe she also wanted to go home early?

The day rolled slowly by and the raindrops on the roof grew louder, the lightning strikes neared.

He stood from his desk, finished with his stack and ready to file them; another flash of lightning, thunder shook the window. As he strode across the room he heard the oddest noise in all his military career.

A yelp of terror.

Coming from the vicinity of Riza's desk.

Wait a second…

Roy had his doubts. There was absolutely no way he'd just heard Riza Hawkeye, Amestris' number one sharpshooter, workaholic, cry out in fear at the sound of thunder. Right?

More lightning. More thunder. More yelp.

Okay, there was no mistake this time; he'd definitely heard that. He knew what it was, yes, that had to be it. Riza'd never get scared of rain.

"Hawkeye, I understand that Hayate must be frightened, but if you could, please hush him." He really didn't mind the dog's noises, but he had to make sure he wasn't just imagining those cries.

"Sir!" she saluted him, albeit, somewhat shakily. She too had completed the stack assigned to her and was approaching the filing cabinet. He opened the drawer for her, she deposited her file into the compartment and paused to thank him. The noise of the drawer sliding shut was soon accompanied by a harsh clash of thunder that shook the very foundations of EHQ.

To this day, Roy can't tell you what happened in that split second where the light flickered off. All he can say is that one moment, his subordinate was thanking him for getting the filing cabinet open for her, the next, she was in his arms, practically trembling with fear at the storm's onslaught.

To say he was startled would be the understatement of the century. His mind was vainly attempting to process the fact that the proud Riza Hawkeye was currently shaking in his arms. His eyes were wide and his expression was blank. Riza was incredibly embarrassed; her face was red and her amber eyes were ashamed. She softly spoke, snatching Roy from his pathetic attempts at intelligent thought, "You can put me down now, sir."

He didn't need to be told twice. He practically dropped her from surprise as it was, though he was shocked to find he was partially unwilling to release her. She stared awkwardly off in a different direction. He was unable to take his eyes off her.

"I'm sorry, sir. I…I don't like storms."

Roy just gaped at his Lieutenant. She turned to face him, her eyes held a serious air as she asked, "You won't tell anyone about this, right?"

Mustang finally found his voice, "W…" oops, his voice cracked! _'No! Now I sound like some insane, hormone-crazed teenage boy!_' He resisted the urge to smack himself. "Wouldn't dream of it."

She smiled. She actually, genuinely smiled, though it was rather small. Roy's eyes widened again, he could feel the slightest rush of blood to his face. Right when he thought he was caught, however, he was saved by the storm—another resounding clap rolled through the office; the lights flickered before going off.

"EEEP!!!!" There were arms around his neck again. She was trembling again. The lights reluctantly came back on to enlighten the comical scene.

Riza was once again in Roy's arms.

"I-I think it's time to go home, Lieutenant." Roy forced out. Thank goodness! His voice did not crack this time.

"Okay…" It was the first time he'd ever seen Hawkeye that desperate to leave the office.

"I'll walk you home." He promised as he set her on the ground, more gently this time.

Her smile would have lit the room, maybe even the entire EHQ, had the power been out again. Roy grabbed his umbrella, and the two walked out the door, Black Hayate bringing up the rear.

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A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update this...I kinda had writer's block for this story and I had to finish up a Naruto fanfiction. I'll try to update more frequently again. Thanks for reading.

Review if you want.


	14. Chapter 14

**Because It's You**

"Woah…I didn't know the janitor's closet was this dark with the lights off…"

"Shut up, Fuery!"

"Ohh….looks like you got on the Boss's bad sad, Fuery. Then again, he's probably a lot more comfortable in the company of a lovely lady than he is with his subordinates."

"Havoc."

"Haha! Looks like you'd better run, Havoc! Mustang might steal your next girlfriend before you get to ask her out! …oh wait, he already did! Haha!!"

"Breda, you are on my foot. Please get off."

"Fine, fine, Falman; honestly, man, you need to lighten up!"

"No."

"YEEOUCH!!! Lieutenant Havoc, sir, please watch where you put your cigarettes!"

"Fuery, my cigarette isn't even lit. Speaking of which, Boss, do you mind? I need a light!"

"Fool! Don't light a cigarette in a cleaning closet!! You'll suffocate us all!"

"Calm down, calm down. Deep breaths, Vato. In, out. In, out. That's it."

"If you all don't shut up this instant, I will personally discharge you all!!"

"Would you, please, Boss? Get me out of this miserable shack…"

"It would be nice to have vacation for once…"

"Yeah, yeah. Besides, Boss, we all know: you won't be the one to fire us. The only one we have to watch out for is Hawkeye. She'll be the one to fire us—"

-SNAP-

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, sir, p-please put your gloves away!!"

"Hey, hey!! What are you doing, Boss?! I didn't mean anything!"

"Please forgive our insubordinance!"

"That's not even a word!"

"Don't. Speak. Another. Word."

"SIR!"

-tick, tock; tick, tock; tick, tock-

A door opened.

"What on earth? …Where is everyone? They were all here when I left...Hayate, sniff around….maybe they left early…"

"SURPRISE!!!"

Wow…now **_that_** was worth it. The expression on her face was definitely worth enduring ten minutes in a broom closet with his subordinates while they tried to maim one another. Her eyes were wide, her gun half-drawn; Hayate had left behind her.

"What…" she cleared her throat and regained her composure. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Happy birthday, to you! Happy birthday, to you! Happy birthday, dear Hawkeye!! Happy birthday, to yyyoooouuuuu!!!!"

Ugh…now that part wasn't worth it. Breda crooned. Havoc puffed. Falman conducted. Hayate howled. Fuery sang (off tune) with all his might. Roy kind of pretended to hum along.

Pictures were snapped, the cake was revealed, booze was brought out, and partially tipsy people wished Riza 'happy birthday'. She waited until the party calmed a little before standing next to Roy.

"So…why did you do all this, sir?" she gestured around the room with her free hand. "I didn't even think you remembered it was my birthday today."

Roy took a swallow of his liquor, contemplating his response. Finally he replied, "Because you said, 'next time, invite me too.'"

She smiled as she walked away.

"…And because it's you," he finished, no one but his drink to hear his admission.

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A/N: aww...I couldn't help myself; this story just had WAY too much potential to be Royai.

Yeah...this is kind of a continuation of one of my chapters...kind of...

Review if you so wish.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: okay...there's more fluff in this story than I ever intended there to be...

There are minor hints of EdWin in this story; perhaps a few others, but nothing too serious. If you don't like that pairing, I'm sorry. But don't worry: there really aren't enough hints to bother you in this chapter**

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**

A Quiet Ceremony

He felt honored to be there.

The church was small, isolated. Roughly fifty people were in attendance to the quiet ceremony, many of whom bore the same blue uniform.

They had decided on a church; neither was distinctly religious, but tradition was tradition. Riza wanted to adhere to such protocol.

Riza's strict obedience to tradition and Roy's eagerness for revolt had clashed in an epic strife. Such arguments had never been witnessed in all Amestris. The only way that they managed to agree was a one-word solution suggested by their dear friends, advice for both the present and the future:

Compromise.

Roy had allowed the service to be in a church; he even let their friends wear dress uniform, if in the military.

But…

Riza had to hold up her end of the bargain. She had to let Roy pick her dress; she wondered if it had been wise to cooperate with the man after all.

Roy coughed. The small sanctuary was practically overflowing with fragment flower arrangements, compliments of a certain bookworm who insisted on 'romance and perfume'.

Being the groom was nerve-wracking.

That was the cue. The organ played as the assemblage rose. Elysia Hughes pranced out of the backroom, the flower girl. She looked the part, too. Her hair had been braided with ribbons; she wore her own miniature veil; flowers had been embroidered into her dress. She was escorted by Black Hayate, a makeshift ring bearer. He pulled a small wagon containing the velvet cushion and rings.

Next came Sheska, one of the maids of honor. Her dress was flattering and her hair was unusually neat. Havoc escorted her. He winked at her; she was, after all, his date for the evening. She blushed before taking her place on the bride's side. He smirked as he took his own position near Roy.

Winry peaked around the corner. She looked lovely in her gown; her eyes shined with an intense happiness. The cause of her ecstasy was not lost to Mustang, as her escort soon joined her in full view of the crowd. There was a mild blush on the face of one Edward Elric as he walked with Winry down the aisle, pondering if he might be in Roy's shoes some day soon.

Edward stood solemnly next to Roy, serving as best man. He shot Winry, the bridesmaid, a look before turning his attention back to the open doorway.

Here it was.

A white veil teased the corner of the chapel. Everyone in the crowd watched with baited breath. A tall man began sobbing manly tears of joy, pink sparkles dancing around him.

A shoe appeared beneath the lace. Roy inhaled sharply. This was a moment he'd wanted for his whole life.

Then she was there. The room faded from Mustang's view. He only saw her; she looked radiant. Her smile was the most gorgeous thing of all.

Surprisingly, the miniskirt supporter had opted for a more modest wedding dress on his wife. Why? No, he hadn't given up the idea of seeing her in a short skirt; he just preferred not to have a room full of men with nosebleeds on his wedding day. Riza's hem stopped just above her knees, the veil trailed the floor.

General Grumman kissed his granddaughter on the hand, willingly giving her to his young friend.

The ceremony was beautiful. The reception was enjoyable. Elysia ran amongst the adults, gathering praise and enacting her own future wedding day. Hayate ran in circles, begging for scraps. Alphonse was ambushed by numerous girls, each begging him to dance with them; he obliged happily, remembering his days in armor. Havoc and Sheska seemed to hit it off pretty well. Fuery had his own date. The rest of the military group were enjoying themselves, laughing about their leader's history and trading money for lost bets. Winry sat as close to Ed as possible. Ed probably would have been mobbed by women had it not been for Winry and her wrench's protection. He was truly grateful.

In the middle of the dance floor, in a whole other world, a newly wed couple danced in bliss.

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A/N: yeah...lots of fluff.

Review, please.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: hn...not too many reviews on the last chapter. I guess some of you didn't like the EdWin or SheskaHavoc in it, ne? Well, this chappy's for you people who don't like pairings, I hope you enjoy it!

Sorry once again that it's taking me so long to update. School sucks up my time like nothing else. Hopefully I'll get some stuff accomplished over the extended weekend.**

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Companionship **

The enlistment of Black Hayate into the tightly-knit military group sparked many changes. The least of these differences was the water bowl in the corner of the small office. The least concerning of these was the friendship formed between Riza and Fuery. The strangest was the jealously that Havoc now felt every time he saw the puppy and his mistress.

Truth, he himself had turned down ownership of the canine. Truth, he had teased about foreign delicacies and such. Truth, he hadn't thought his bachelor lifestyle would befit a pet.

But that was the most remarkable change that Hayate had brought to the military division.

He wasn't lonely **_then_**. He didn't want a companion **_then_**. He was content with a bachelor's life **_then_**. He was satisfied with the occasional date and rejection **_then_**. Seeing a coworker's attitude change because of a pet, however, reversed that.

So during the next rainstorm when Fuery brought in a stray kitten he had found in the gutter, Havoc took his chances.

"Does anyone want this kitten? It needs a good home and I can't—"

"ME!! I WANT IT!!" The cigarette flew from his mouth as he shouted; it lay forgotten on the floor as he struggled to reach the cat, half-afraid that at any moment, Alphonse Elric would fly through the door and snatch the kitty out of Havoc's hand (sort of like Roy stole his girlfriends).

"L-Lieutenant Havoc, sir?!" Fuery literally blinked and missed his superior's rapid movement. Holding the cat protectively, Fuery asked in bold, nervous voice, "This isn't another delicacy, is it, sir?"

Havoc shot Fuery a it-was-a-joke,-stupid,-you-were-supposed-to-laugh-not-take-it-seriously glare. Nimbly, Jean swiped the kitty from Kain's arms.

And that started their fight—err…struggle. It was quite a pathetic battle for military folk, but was bitter nonetheless, involving hair-pulling, cursing, clothes-tearing, and overall mayhem. It would have lasted a long time were it not for the timely sounding of the fire alarm.

The cause was easy to spot; Havoc's discarded cigarette had lit up a section of carpet. Smoke could be seen rising from his cubicle. The sprinklers soon eliminated the potential threat, though, in the process, dousing the workers, the cat, and, most fearfully, the Flame Alchemist.

"FUERY!!! HAVOC!!! GET IN HERE NOW!!!"

Neither of the men were listening to their leader, however. Both were too transfixed on the cat, who had been soaked with water. Now, it is common knowledge that cats hate water; yet this cat, still in Havoc's arms, was purring happily though the deluge.

"Ha! See? He likes me!"

"No! He just likes the water!" protested a blinded Fuery (his glasses were currently lost on the floor).

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!!"

Roy Mustang was on the scene and livid. His dripping hair and wet spark gloves were a tribute to his anger. With or without alchemy, he was an intimidating sight when furious.

"Sir!" Fuery jumped to a salute, sparing Havoc a glare himself.

"Boss, this newbie says the cat likes the water, not me. But he said earlier that it was crying in the street because of the rainy weather."

"The cat might have just been hungry!"

"Really? Well then, here!" Without further ado, Jean Havoc thrust the kitten into Fuery's hands, whereupon the feline promptly ceased purring. This action was repeated several times before Havoc made his point.

Of course, the two officers completely forgot about their seething lt. colonel. That is, until, he signaled his most loyal subordinate and gunfire ripped open near their feet. Needless to say, the two surrendered quickly and were assigned to cleaning the restrooms for the rest of the month. A much-dreaded chore.

The small cat kept purring for Havoc throughout the day. The messy-haired man carried his new partner home after work. When they reached his house, and he placed the cat on the ground, the feline followed him everywhere.

Suddenly, Havoc began laughing as he tossed the kitty a parcel that had been in his pocket. "Poor fool! He didn't see me slip this piece of fish into my uniform!" Thus, Havoc revealed his method for the cat's attention.

That night, Havoc went to bed, fully intending to sleep well; which he did. When he awoke, he found not the apartment he had entered seven hours ago. No, no. What he found instead, looked to be something out of a horror-crime flick.

His furniture was ripped to shreds. His lamps were lying on their sides. Stuffing was all over the floor, once part of the throw pillows. Cans of preserves rolled on the ground, some leaking contents onto his tile.

In the midst of the chaos, sat a purring kitten.

Havoc skipped that day of work, and many following. That day marked the beginning of a mini-war between feline and lieutenant.

He had wanted a peaceable roommate, a loyal teammate. Not only did this cat destroy things more effectively than his guns, but because of Hayate, he wasn't allowed to work. Roy used the cat for ridicule, often teasing Jean about his new friend. Havoc felt robbed.

Like some kind of slave to his pet, Havoc used spare cash not on Friday night dates, but on litter boxes, scratching posts, treats, Cat How-to books, toys, and other items. Still the cat reeked havoc.

One evening while buying groceries, Havoc stopped to purchase cat food. He couldn't help but flirt with the pretty cashier girl. She curtly responded to all his flattery, finally her hands finding his last item. Cat food. Her eyebrows arched and Havoc steeled himself for criticism.

The squeal shocked him. The girl's eyes were alight with enthusiasm and adoration as she surveyed the Lieutenant again. "You have a cat?? I **_love_** cats!"

After making a date, Havoc headed home, delighted with the turn of events. He entered his house and flipped on the lights, meandering to the kitchen in a daze as his mind replayed the evening's events. He placed a bowl of food on the ground for the kitten who was rubbing his pants legs. Instantly, the cat began devouring the food. Jean knelt next to the creature thinking. Slowly, he reached out a hand and stroked the feline's back.

"Tell you what, Kitty: you keep getting me dates, and I'll buy you as much fish as you like."

The cat began purring.

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A/N: I like cats, but they can be devious little critters. 

my 'inner writer' (coined from 'inner sakura' from Naruto), is currently celebrating that I wrote a Havoc-centric.

As for inspiration...meh, nothing to ride home about. I was drinking a soda and suddenly the thought, 'Hn...what if Havoc was jealous of Riza and wanted a pet of his own?' came to my mind. Hence, this chapter.

I hope that you review; your opinions are of great value to me.

BTW: Happy Easter! (or "Happy Spring Vacation!" to those who aren't religiously inclined).


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: this time, the delay was not my fault. I had this chapter typed and edited on Friday, but fanfiction wouldn't let me upload the document.

Blackjack is a real poker game. It's better known as "Twenty One", though, because the object of the game is to get a hand as near to twenty one in value as possible without going over. In the event of a tie game, the dealer wins automatically.

I hope you enjoy it despite the lateness.**

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21**

This had to be the wettest spring Eastern Head Quarters had seen for a decade. No—a century.

It was pouring…again. It was lightning…again. It was flooding…again.

Oddly enough, however, this time everyone was in the small office of one Roy Mustang.

The storm had begun after everyone was at work, and the torrents soon grew to a deluge and the thunder became a cacophony of the heavens. Though crowded together in the small workplace, no work was accomplished. The men sat at the central desks, playing, of all things, blackjack.

Havoc had found a green poker visor in one of his many cluttered drawers. In combination with the cigarette dangling from his mouth, he certainly looked the part of 'dealer' in their little game. Falman's shifty eyes made him the ideal cheater, perhaps the reason he was sitting farthest away from the dealer. Roy proved to have great luck, though he was occasionally bested by his lieutenant. After all, she had the world's best poker face (perhaps rivaled by Edward's, which could easily be nullified by comments about vertically challenged people). Many of Riza's bluffs made Roy fold hands that would have won.

Sadly, Fuery, an absolute newbie in this genre, was losing all his rent money, and rapidly at that. Within four games, he had been forced to withdraw and minimize his losses. He sat among the empty seats watching his comrades bet their week's wages.

The only things lacking from this poker game were booze and faulty lights.

The generator groaned and, for a tense moment, the power went out throughout headquarters. In a few seconds, however, the lights were up and running once more as if nothing had happened.

Check that. The only thing missing from this game was booze. Considering the downpour outside, though, there probably wouldn't be any easy solution to that problem.

Bored (and hoping to prevent his friends from seeing him slide cards up his sleeve), Falman launched on a long tirade on the traditions surrounding poker. He listed the common variations, the rules, the background, the cultural differences, and a great many other facts that no one else knew or particularly cared about.

"That's all well and good, Falman, but as for me, I'd rather hear some of Boss' numerous encounters with Grace." There was some measure of hostility in Havoc's usually relaxed voice.

"Who?" A bored Colonel Mustang shifted slightly under Riza's stern glare.

"The girl from the flower shop."

No enlightenment.

"Pretty brown hair. I was dating her. You took her to the movies."

"…"

"Oh, that girl. Yeah, I remember her. So what?"

The tension was great. As if on cue, a flash of lightning cut Havoc's retort off, momentarily blinding the officers with its brilliance. Then, as if on cue, the office door was thrown open to reveal a large shape, water dripping off its surface. Before any of the team could identify the form, the generator gave a feeble groan and shut down.

Fuery squeaked. Falman stood, mouth agape and eyes wide. Breda dropped his sandwich. Roy, motivated by his pride and sanity, somehow resisted the urge to hide beneath the desk. Riza shivered (Though her cause was not that of the others, but of the fierce weather. Yet that is the story of another time). Reluctantly, the lights flicked back on with the generator.

In the doorway, in all his metal-clad glory, was Alphonse Elric, looking as sheepish as possible for a six-foot armor.

"Err…sorry, but do you have any spare wrenches?"

The entire room blinked at the same time.

"Winry kinda broke hers…or rather, Ed broke it with is alchemy after she hit him with it. He refused to remake it, and forbid me to make her one…"

The group of friends blinked simultaneously again.

"So…I need to borrow one, but nii-san can't know about that until Winry finishes repairing his automail."

This time the officers just stared.

"Please?"

"…"

"Hey, Alphonse-kun, do you know how to play poker?" There was a manic gleam in Havoc's eyes. Some might have called it greed.

"No."

"Excellent!" Most of the males exclaimed as one, each one considering what they could do with the Full Metal Alchemist's spare change.

Wrenches forgotten as well as gambling limits, the rest of the day progressed until, perhaps fatefully, the entire pocket money of Jean Havoc, Vato Falman, Heimans Breda, and Kain Fuery was sitting in front of Alphonse. (Roy and Riza refrained from most of the later rounds involving the younger Elric).

Who knew that Al's steel prison was an ideal bluff for poker games?

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A/N: Oh yeah, in regards to **Siacatmesecat**'s question: no, I have never read Ouran Highschool Host Club, though I have heard good reviews about it. Maybe I should look into it...? (Is it good?) 

Well, on that note, please review.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: yay! I wasn't so late this time!

Riza-centric. Some of the sentences may seem kind of one-sided, but they're meant to be that way.**

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**

**Surprises**

Really, this was RIDICULOUS.

Riza Hawkeye had been in the military for almost a decade. She was a top-mark sniper; a disciplinarian; a workaholic; devoted to her comrades and superiors. So many years in the military had taught her many of life's harder-learned lessons. Her brown eyes had seen many scenarios that most modern-day women couldn't begin to imagine—some scenes that she doubted she would ever forget.

But _**this**_…this was just beyond her…

Roy—err, Lt. Colonel Mustang, that is—was patrolling Eastern City, checking for evidences of Scar or other criminal activity (though, honestly, Riza couldn't recall when the last time he did work without being forced to was…)

Needless to say, she had been shocked and defensive of Ro—_**Lieutenant Colonel Mustang**_'snew…attitude improvement? She had attempted to guard him and was promptly brushed aside. She had insisted; and he had literally ordered her to stay at the office and "hold down the fort". The nerve!

Technically, she wasn't alone, mind you. Hayate was chasing some moths nearby (he never caught them), and she could hear Fuery tinkering away on another half-finished project.

Truth be told, however, she never really realized how boring work was without the Colonel. Riza came to work early and she left late, but Roy was never very far behind her; and though he had to be coerced into working, Hawkeye couldn't remember any times he'd called in sick. Work without him was so…

Ordinary.

"Inner Riza", that is, the Hawkeye beneath her stern exterior, began to pout, somewhat ashamed of herself. Did she depend on Roy Mustang so much that she could even file some reports without his griping?

The simple answer was, "Yes."

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she pulled another pile into her lap. So. Much. Work.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!! She was starting to sound like Roy!!

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, ma'am? Are you alright?" Kain Fuery looked up from his gadgets and screws long enough to shoot his superior a concerned look. While she appreciated his concern, she had to fight the desire to laugh—glasses reflect light very well, after all; and with those thick lenses, his eyes practically disappeared in the dim lamplight of his desk.

"Yes, I'm fine." Somehow, she managed to refrain from smirking (she always does).

"Ma'am?"

"Yes, Fuery?"

"Did you want to get some air?"

"Hm? What?" A somewhat surprised glance; whatever she had expected, it most certainly hadn't been Fuery asking her to get air. That was something Havoc did so that he could smoke, and he never asked her (of course, shooting the cigarette out of a heavy smoker's hand isn't always considered the most endearing way to tell them to put it out when inside the office.)

"Would you like to get some air outside…" Fuery wasn't meeting her glance. "With me…I just thought you'd be all alone if I left you in here…and I have asthma…" The teen made an odd sort of rasping sound, as if to convince her that he was telling the truth.

Riza wondered what he could be up to.

Her curiosity won. "Lead the way, Fuery."

-

"Okay, is everything set?"

"Yep. I've got my camera!"

"No one cares about your camera, idiot! Is everyone ready?! Where's the food?!"

"Sheesh! Calm down! It's over there…with Breda…ooh…"

"LIEUTENANT BREDA!!"

"What?! Calm down, Colonel! I'm not breaking into the snacks! Honestly!"

"LIEUTENANT HAVOC!"

"Yes, boss?"

"PUT OUT THAT SMOKE RIGHT NOW AND HIDE!!"

"Alright! Alright! Keep your uniform pants on…" he smirked, "at least till she gets here."

"I HEARD THAT! HAVOC! YOU'D BETTER HAVE FIRE INSURANCE, CAUSE BY THE TIME I'M THROUGH WITH YOU—!"

"SSHH! Roy! Quiet! She's coming!" Hughes' statement was followed by frantic hand symbols, each of which were pathetically directed to shut up the rest of the crew.

Stressed as he was, Roy Mustang could not help but poke fun at a certain alchemist in attendance with his younger (taller) brother. He added to Hughes' statement, just loud enough for Ed to hear, "Well, Full Metal doesn't have to shut up; 'cause, after all, there's such a height difference, there's no way his tiny voice could reach her ears."

A sound of a door being pushed open killed the retort on Edward's tongue, leaving him to shake a metal fist at the Flame Alchemist (Winry would murder him if he messed this surprise up…not to mention what Mustang would do…)

The light momentarily blinded Riza as she walked into the courtyard of Eastern Military Head Quarters. Her uniformed boots hit the concrete as she strode out into the full light and allowed her amber eyes to adjust to the sunlight, Fuery trotting along behind her. It was only when her eyes grew used to the atmosphere that she noticed the large table in the middle of the plaza…and all the food…and the cake…and the amount of candles on it…and the banner hanging from two poles (which looked to have been transmuted by Edward, based on the dragon heads holding the fabric).

All at once, every one of her friends, some people she barely remembered, some she didn't know, some she caught herself wishing she didn't know…they all jumped out from various hiding spots and yelled at the top of their lungs, "SURPRISE!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HAWKEYE!!"

Her marksman eye's swept the crowd, searching for one prominent figure. Where was her Colonel?

A tall figure stepped out from behind the door, raised his fingers in a familiar stance and snapped. For half a second, you could have heard a pin drop as the crowd wondered just what the great man had set on fire.

A burst of flame and a shower of sparks erupted near the cake; yet when the initial brightness had faded, not one corner of the pastry was harmed, and all twenty-eight candles where lit in beautiful spires of wax.

Riza looked at him fully in the face, gratitude washing her features. Her voice was calm. "All this was for me?"

"**_Is_** for you. Yes, it is for your birthday."

Riza smiled; the sheer gesture felt like it had sent Roy into the air. Her next words dampened his euphoria, but only ever so slightly.

"Tomorrow's my birthday, sir."

* * *

A/N: ...ooohh...close, but no banana...(yes, I said banana; it's a Garfield joke)

In response to **Dailenna**'s review:  
I'm familiar with blackjack. (it's good to know that others play it too, though). And also I would like to apologize for an error in my sentence structure. In the last chapter, Ed was never at the game. The comparison to his expression was meant to be only analytical, and it was my fault for writing it in a confusing phrase. thanks for reading so closely.

YEAH!! I'm really close to getting THREE DIGIT REVIEWS on this story, so, if you like it, please review!


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: another update. Wasn't so late this time, considering its length...

I'm happy! Over one hundred reviews! You people rock! I hope you like this chapter.

* * *

And now, it is time to describe the dreams that haunt our favorite subordinates. Each dream will be as unique as the person who dreamt it, so please, eavesdrop with an open mind while you hear their unconscious desires, hopes, fears, and longings.

* * *

Havoc tossed and turned in nightmare-drenched sleep.

_It was a normal day at the office. Jean Havoc had slept at his desk from eight to ten-thirty, as per usual, awoken from his cat nap, and reached for his box of cigarettes. After a few seconds of searching, his hand found the familiar carton and expertly removed one of his lifelines. As his left hand adjusted to the familiar texture of the paper, his right hand withdrew his favorite lighter from his uniform shirt pocket. Checking above, beneath, to the right and the left of his work cubicle, Havoc carefully switched the cover off the metal device, held the flame-starter a safe distance from his nose, and flipped the key to ignite the spark._

_Nothing. Havoc tried again._

_Nothing. _

_Frustrated, Jean held the lighter away from his face and furiously flipped the switch over and over again. After numerous tries, he managed a small, blue flame. He carefully held the spitting fire against the cigarette. The fragile flame flickered over the paper, sent up some smoke, and puffed out of existence._

_Angry, Havoc threw the useless lighter against the wall. He fumblingly found a random match in his office drawer and struck it against his boot to cause enough friction to ignite a flame. The match broke. Now a furious Jean Havoc dug through his various junk and thinga-ma-jigs until he finally found another match. He struck it again and a steady fire ate away at the limited wood. Hastily, the Lieutenant held the match up to his cigarette, but to no avail._

_The struggle continued for what seemed hours, as time after time, the cigarette resisted the fire Havoc fed it. The word "angry" ceased to apply to the situation. Havoc swore uselessly at the inanimate object (that approach didn't help him either). Finally, after running to a nearby supply store, Havoc held a burning long match up to his cigarette and managed to light it. Ecstatic, Jean took a look breath of the tobacco, forgetting for a moment that the match still burned in his hand. The match kindly (or not so kindly) prompted him of its presence however, with a scorch on his hand._

_The pain was so real. Havoc threw the brand away without realizing his err. Until it was too late._

_The match landed in a waste bin, wherein it quickly set light to its fellow garbage. Day-old newspaper and sandwich wrap ignited in what soon became a towering inferno of flame and smoke and heat. Havoc watched with horror as the fire alarm went off, thereby turning on the showers, there by bringing his long struggle to get a smoke to naught._

Jean rolled in his sleep, finding a more comfortable position as his dreams took a turn for the better. His kitten purred next to his ear.

* * *

Far away, in a military dorm reserved for enlisted men, Falman snored soundly. Of what does he dream, you ask?

_In a poorly-furnished dorm room, Vato Falman slept blissfully surrounded by a peaceful silence interrupted only by the occasional snore._

Falman smiled in his sleep…what a nice dream…

* * *

Not that far away, Kain Fuery shivered.

_It seemed to have been a normal day at work. Fuery had diligently filed papers, run errands, fixed the odd telephone cable, etc. He was feeling somewhat proud of his ability—since joining the military, his skill with tools had only climbed._

_It seemed like a normal day at work…that is, until lunch hour rolled around. Practically starved, Fuery dug in his desk for his lunch pail. Upon finding it, he proceeded to pry the lid off the container and unwrap his typical bologna and Swiss on rye sandwich. As he was about to bite into the scrumptious food, however, two of his colleagues, Jean Havoc and Heimans Breda, strolled around the corner, chatting with each other good-naturedly._

_Obedient to protocol, Kain dropped his food and stood to salute the pair as they walked past. Instead of passing him by, however, the two turned to him. At a loss for words, Fuery barely managed, "S-sir!"_

_"Yeah."_

_"At ease."_

_He sighed with relief and dropped his salute. His stomach growled and he looked between his superiors and his sandwich._

_Breda caught on and spoke first, "Go ahead! Man's gotta eat!"_

_Fuery smiled before snatching the bread from his desk, within seconds, the last bit of bologna, Swiss, and rye had disappeared mysteriously. Havoc smirked dangerously._

_"Say, Breda, did you know that dogs are a delicacy in the East?" Breda saw the gleam in his friend's eyes, and instantly decided to aid him. It was always fun to tease the newbie. "Really, Havoc? I didn't."_

_"Yep. They raise them on farms. Red dogs are supposed to be the healthiest, though word on the street is that any breed is tasty. They cook them with a bunch of salt and seasonings and stuff. Dog soup is REALLY popular…"_

_"No kidding?"__  
"No kidding."_

_Poor Fuery couldn't believe his ears._

_"You know, Havoc, when I was little—" Jean laughed at that wording, to Breda's annoyance. The man, however, continued with dignity. "My mother used to cook squirrels and field mice for me, providing I caught them of course. She used to skin them, gut them, clean them, then heat up a skillet. She'd salt and pepper (maybe sprinkle some lemon juice on them), them skewer 'em and roast 'em. Man, they tasted so good. Just like chick—Hey, Fuery, where are you going?!"_

_As Fuery ran to the restroom clutching his stomach, Havoc keeled over in silent laughter. Breda watched him curiously; finally, gasping for air, Jean choked out the question, "Y-you caught mice and squirrels? AHAHAH!"_

Fuery awoke from his nightmare and hastily cuddled the nearest fuzzy animal (which just so happened to be a raccoon pup he'd rescued a week before). Still alarmed, he whispered to the animal, "Don't worry, Mr. Bandit. I won't let Breda or Havoc get you…"

* * *

Somewhere in the night, on a warm military cot, Breda sneezed in his sleep.

_His stomach growled discontentedly as Heimans Breda stared anxiously at the clock. It was five minutes until lunch break, and he couldn't wait to eat his home-made triple-decker sandwich, complete with mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup, and Tabasco sauce. Yum…_

_Four minutes…_

_Three…_

_One minute…_

_Fifteen seconds…_

_"YES! You are mine!" Within an instant, the Second Lieutenant had grabbed and unwrapped his wondrous lunch when a sudden appearance on his desk caused him to freeze, mouth open and sandwich practically begging to be eaten._

_You see, when he had grabbed the great food, his workspace had been clear of most debris, aside from the occasional paper; yet now, no more than four seconds later, his desk was plainly NOT clean. His desk was now occupied by a lone…beast._

_On his desk sat arrogantly a small dog, about as large as Breda's sandwich. The dog, easily identified by small ears and flattish face, was unmistakably a pug; he wore, seemingly in place of a collar, a large bandana with a metal disk on the top bearing a strange seal. More disturbing, however, was the way the dog was staring. At Breda's sandwich._

_Naturally, the cynophobic reeled backwards, only stopped by the wall of his cubicle. He cradled his food protectively, even as he tried to get as far away from the dog as humanly possible._

_Fear turned to absolute terror as the pug opened his mouth and licked his chops. However, terror turned to absolute insanity when the pug spoke, "So, buddy, are you gonna eat that? If you give it to me…I'll let you touch my paws; they're soft."_

_Heimans had never known his eyes could open that wide. But honestly, can you blame him? When was the last time a beast suddenly appeared on your workspace and started asking you for your food?_

_"N-no!! BACK! BACK BEAST!" Breda used his left hand to mime shoving the dog away. It was, however, a critical error, for not only had he insulted the dog by calling him 'beast', but he had also put his hand near the dog's mouth._

_His face went through a somewhat miraculous quick transformation from shock and anger to pain. With tears in his eyes, he began waving his arm frantically, shouting, "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" The pug only bit harder._

_In the chaos, seven other dogs appeared with a puff of smoke—these canines used Pakkun's (the pug currently latched onto Breda's hand) distraction and promptly stole the wondrous triple-decker gourmet sandwich with mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup, and Tabasco sauce and disappeared in a method similar to the way they had come. Shortly thereafter, Pakkun released his iron grip on Breda, and landed nimbly on a wall closeby._

_Instead of falling off the wall, the dog stayed sideways. Then, smugly, the dog revealed all his teeth and spoke in a mocking tone, "I think you use my shampoo too, though not often enough. Chou!" Without further ado, the thief puffed away._

_Breda was in despair. His wonderful sandwich! But, no! It was worse. He made his way to the nearest wall and pounded his head against it. "Same shampoo as a dog. Same as a dog. Same as a dog…"_

Breda woke up sweating. He got out of bed and grabbed a few-days-old donut from his refrigerator. As he munched, though, he calmed down. Somewhat more calm, he laughed nervously to himself. "Come on, Breda; get a grip on reality! Who would think of eight dogs that could talk and stole sandwiches; or a pug that uses conditioner and offered to let people touch its paw pads?!"

* * *

A/N:...yeah, now this story was really random. It's the product of a long car ride...

For those of you who haven't read Naruto (which I suggest that you do), Pakkun is one of the character's summons. He's a pug with a sort of mellow attitude, and he uses his paw pads as leverage in one episode.

I hope you liked it if you did, review please!


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: wow, it seems like forever since I've uploaded...-sweatdrops- I guess I just wanted to get this chapter right, ne?

hints of hints of spoilers from the manga in this chapter, but nothing too serious.

I hope you all like this, CHAPTER TWENTY!!! woo!**

* * *

**

**Nostalgia**

Riza Hawkeye didn't like storms. They scared her—the wild and unpredictability. A member of the military, she was accustomed to people listening to her orders, or at the least her gunfire. The weather, however, was a different story. She could yell until she was hoarse and the atmosphere still wouldn't pay her any heed. She could shoot until EHQ ran out of ammunition and the rain wouldn't stop. She had never liked that, not even as a child.

Hawkeye still remembered some of the spring storms she'd been caught in as a child, running errands for her father. The East has its own version of a 'Monsoon Season', sudden and severe thunderstorms that came out of nowhere and vanished into the same area. How many times she'd been stranded in a tree avoiding a deluge, she couldn't say.

Hm…she still remembered that one time. She was seven or eight-years-old and her father, a famed local alchemist, needed her to run more ingredients for yet another one of his strange experiments.

The day was bright, perfectly gorgeous and the sun reflected off her honey-colored hair. The child smiled up at the cloudless day, a day perfect for running, she thought to herself. Running without a care in world, just for the sake of it all. She carefully put the 'grocery list' into her money pouch and, without a moment to lose, flew down the dirt road.

She made it to town, blissful and out of breath from her sprint; there were times where she almost regretted living so far from the outskirts—this wasn't one of them.

In a somewhat more civilized manner, she approached the small shop that may/may not have the ingredients her father needed.

She really didn't spend that much time in the store, just enough for the pudgy little man behind the counter to hand her the necessary materials and to caution her about the weather. Fearless girl that she was, granddaughter of a military officer, she raised her chin at his cautions. Why should she be afraid of a little rain?

As she left the town, the wind began to pick up. At first, it was somewhat pleasant, the cool breeze tearing away some of the muggy air, ruffling her hair and clothes. For a while, she enjoyed walking down the lane, content to observe the grass getting steadily more bent as the breeze picked up.

Eight-year old Riza bravely kept up her pace, feeling only a small amount of fear. However, she felt her first real swing of anxiety as the sun was gradually overtaken by a giant thundercloud. No, 'giant' didn't cut it; _massive_ was a much better word. Night fell early.

Her feet moved on their own, a natural reaction from the adrenaline in her bloodstream. Her pace quickened, following the standard of her pulse.

Then lightning illuminated the darkness in a way mankind had been trying to imitate for years. Riza felt herself scream in sudden alarm, drowned out by the thunder; she felt her feet begin to speed beneath her, even as the downpour began. But she experienced it all in third person. It was almost as chaotic within her young mind.

'What kind of granddaughter of an officer gets scared by a little rain?' Her antagonistic logic was hard to adhere to in light of the sudden torrent. Her honesty rebuked the logic, 'The same kind of granddaughter who hides under the covers every time it storms at home!'

The dirt path turned to mud, and a new fear entered the girl's mind. 'What if I get lost?'

Spurred on by her fear and the adrenaline rush, Riza began to sprint down the road, slowed by her heavy bag of materials.

With some relief, and some apprehension, she neared the old oak tree. The ancient oak had been there for who-knew-how-long, and had grown to an enormous girth, towering over the dirt thoroughfare and the travelers on it for generations. Riza brightened at the sight of the familiar mark; it meant she was near home, it meant some shelter, for a few moments, at least. She pushed onward, much to her leg muscles' dismay.

She made it under the tree, panting, hand on her knees. The wind was still harsh, but at least the boughs blocked most of the downpour. Most.

She let herself sit for a while, catching her breath. The storm showed absolutely no sign of relenting. She managed to calm herself, a little, under its protection. Then she mustered up whatever was left of her courage, picked up her bag, took a deep breath, and prepared to plunge headfirst into the storm once more, fully intent on running until she was home again.

To her credit, she was fully serious about venturing back into the rain. She was but one step away from the downpour when a voice called out, strangely distant (and growing ever louder). "SSSTTTOOOPPP!!!"

She put on the brakes, and might have been able to salvage her reaction, except the loud noise of a person landing no less than a foot from where she'd been sitting mere seconds before pushed her over the edge.

She tripped, into the rain and the mud.

Dazed, she sat up quickly, still in the rain and not one hundred percent sure how she got there. Her amber eyes were somewhat unfocused as she forced herself to view her new companion.

He was a boy, she was shocked to find, of roughly her age and height. His dark hair was disheveled, leaves and twigs were tangled in the dark mess. Moreover, he was positively drenched, and his feet were bare. An orphan, she thought herself, or someone of equal standard.

"Are you crazy?!! You were about to go into that downpour?!!" He was practically yelling at her now, and she slowly began to get over the stress his sudden appearance had brought on her. She felt her pulse calm as her mind jumped to the next problem.

Completely ignoring him, she began to gather the raw materials that were scattered in the mud. Riza was now completely soaked, from her boots to her blouse; her hair was dripping into her eyes.

He sighed and cautiously began to assist her in the struggle to find her purchases. Several minutes passed like this, before they finally found everything and hurried back to the shelter of the tree.

"You were here too, weren't you?" She finally responded, to his general shock.

"That…that was different."

"What were you doing up there?" Riza looked up at the great tree, wondering to herself just how high this boy had been seated before he'd jumped off to 'save' her.

"I was observing." His voice held much pride. "I bought a book a few weeks ago; it took me ages to save up enough for it. It explained abrupt weather changes, and I wanted to see if the text was right. So I was here, waiting for the storm to roll in."

Only children could be so fast to relate as Riza was to this strange boy; he obviously wanted to tell someone about his quest, judging by his eager tone.

"Well, I need to get these supplies back to my father. _He's_ a famous alchemist." She couldn't keep herself from bragging too.

"You still shouldn't go out in the rain alone."

"So? You honestly can't expect me to—ahh!!"

"What?!"

Her voice was a whisper. "Thunder."

He laughed, much to her annoyance. She felt her cheeks grow warm, the characteristic blush, no doubt. If there was one thing Riza Hawkeye hated, it was being laughed at.

"Well, if that's all you're going to do, stand there and laugh, then I'm going home; rain or no rain!" Riza's voice held an amazing amount of dignity (or was it indignity?) for a mud-soaked, frightened eight-year-old.

"Hey, hey, hey; don't be like that! I'll take you home, okay? That way we'll be even?"

"What difference does that make to me?" she sniffed.

"I…" he began dramatically, hiding one of his hands behind his back, "have an umbrella!"

She caught onto his enthusiasm and smiled too. Then she caught a problem with the scheme. "My father says not to go anywhere with strangers…" She hesitated before adding, "He can be very strict sometimes."

"Well then, _Madame_," He emphasized the formality and bowed, taking her cold, wet hand in his and faking kissing it, before looking up at her with piercing obsidian eyes. "Roy Mustang, at your service."

She giggled, pleased with his flattery. "Riza Hawkeye," came her response, as she mimed a curtsey with as much pride as she thought possible with mud covering her from almost head to toe.

Roy smiled at her, pleased that she was playing along. As he opened his rag-tag umbrella, he looked her in the eyes. "Switch with you?" She laughed again, happily trading her heavy bag for his umbrella.

The wind had slowed a little in the time they had been talking, but the rain was just as relentless as ever. The way to Riza's abode was…_**wet**_; but it passed surprisingly quickly in Roy's company, Riza observed with fascination. What was more, she noted with shock, when she was with him, she wasn't as afraid of the storm. He just seemed to have some unnatural confidence about him that made her trust him.

She reached the house and her father threw open the door, anxiety clear on his face. "Elizabeth! There you are!" Riza was instantly repentant that she had spent any more time than was necessary on the way back, contrite that she had made her father wait for her any longer than he had to. He just had that sort of forceful personality.

Then his eyes, amber like hers, happened upon her traveling companion. Curiosity and disapproval flashed across his face before it assumed his classic somber expression. "And you are…?"

Roy picked up on his question, and his tone, in no time. "Roy Mustang, I happened upon your daughter in her journey and thought it wasn't prudent for her to be in the rain without any shelter." He hesitated, afraid to cross some invisible line between the nobles and his…less-fortunate class.

"Spit it out. You have a question, you should ask it." Riza was familiar with his tone; his work tone. The voice he used when he was making observations on a project.

"Sulfur? Iodine? Manganese? Those aren't common kitchen necessities in the East, all due respect, sir."

To his daughter's shock (and Roy's, for that matter), the alchemist smiled widely at the pauper. "Come in." After that, Riza's sharp hearing could barely catch her father questioning the boy in his knowledge of science, of _**alchemy**_. The rest is history.

* * *

Another clap of thunder startled Riza out of her reverie. Common or not, she doubted she would ever get used to the sudden storms of East City. Tonight was worse than usual, with the forefront of a major system rolling into the district. She was only half-way home, and it looked as if the storm might beat her to her apartment. Hayate shied at her heel.

"Come on, boy." He obediently followed, just as the rain started following. Riza kept her head up, walking with pride as she neared the outskirts of the shopping district. From here on out, her only company would be the rain, Hayate, and the occasional warehouse. Having an apartment on the outskirts wasn't always convenient, but it was certainly more private.

She flinched involuntarily as another resounding clap tore through the evening.

A voice came from her right, in the shadow of a warehouse long abandoned. "I thought you got over your fear of thunder."

She smiled, then smirked through the rain as the perfect response came to her mind. "At least _I'm_ not useless in the rain…" She kept the innocence in her voice.

The shadowed figure stepped out from the gloom of the storehouse, revealing a chuckling Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang. "Out in the rain, without an umbrella? Are you insane?"

His words struck a chord in Riza; nostalgia gleamed in her amber eyes as she realized he'd inadvertently quoted his nine-year-old self. She played along, enjoying a joke she doubted he understood. "'You're here too, aren't you?'"

Maybe he remembered as well; his response was certainly staggeringly close to the mark. "'I was observing.'"

Riza was shocked by his answer, and decided to play it for all it was worth. "I think you've learned enough about the weather by now, don't you, sir?"

Then a smirk overcame Roy, and Riza was half-afraid of what his reaction foreboded. "I think you and I both know I wasn't observing the clouds that day…just like now." He didn't take his eyes off Riza as he said it.

Riza allowed herself to be confused by his statements. "Then…sir, what were you obser—?"

"Something much more intriguing." Then Roy did the unexpected. He picked up Riza's free hand and kissed it, his obsidian eyes gleaming with untold emotions. He straightened, wished her a good evening, turned on heel and left Riza stunned. When she finally found her voice, he was far down the road. Another flash of lightning reminded her that she still needed to get to her apartment. "Come on, Hayate."

That night, Riza found a sure truth: she would never get used to the sudden storms of East City; or be able to predict the actions of its lead officer, Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist.

* * *

A/N: sooo...did you like it!?

nee!! I'm so happy! TWENTY CHAPTERS!!!! yay!!

Please review!

btw, next chapter will cover what Roy and Riza dream about...


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: I know, I know, it's been waaaaaay too long since I've updated...FMA Writer's Block struck again.

but...anyways...here's the promised chapter in which we will explore Roy's subconscious...

please enjoy!

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**Pizza**

Roy Mustang didn't dream. He didn't fantasize, or anything like that. He had good, old-fashioned, normal, dull, unimaginative, thanks-for-the-creamer-but-I-prefer-regular-caffeinated-coffee, deep, uncreative sleep.

Well, once upon a time, he dreamt—when he was young. The good old days when he didn't have to worry about flashbacks or guilt.

The war had butchered Roy's creativity as far as the art of sleeping went. Actually, it had berid his life of the art almost altogether. Since the flames of battle had been so permanently etched into his life, Mustang spent almost no time in his house. He was willing to go anywhere except his empty apartment at the end of the day—hence why he kept a very detailed notebook of all his fans.

Sleep had been erased from his vocabulary—the only thing even mildly resembling the necessity was a temporary break known as 'napping'.

Which is exactly where the proud Lt. Colonel now finds himself.

_He stared down at the paper in his hands, unsure of his destination as he walked down the dark streets of East City. He was practically the only pedestrian out this late; correction, he might just be the only one in EHQ still awake at all._

_That didn't really bother him—it was his custom, after all. What bugged him was the title of the paper in his hands._

"_The Little Engine That Could"_

_Uh…okay…_

_To tell the truth, Roy could just barely feel a scheme, mischievous, forming in the back of his mind. He couldn't exactly name what he was thinking about doing, but whatever it was seemed to have a location in mind. His feet kept leading him eastward, out of city limits and into the more commercial section of the 'suburbs'._

_Oddly, he couldn't quite put a name on his destination, though his conscious mind knew that he must have been there before…at least, the area was certainly familiar._

_His polished boots (he's still in his uniform, naturally) began climbing a steep stairwell, the click of his shoes against the concrete was nerve-wracking. Roy felt…edgy for some unidentifiable cause as he mounted the stairs and found himself face-to-face with none other than an apartment door._

_He raised one—strangely ungloved—hand to knock, wondering who in the world could possibly be awake this late at night._

_He waited for what seemed like forever, completely unsure of where he was or what he was doing at this flat. His purpose, however, was obvious only to his subconscious, which prompted him to knock (again) on the unfamiliar blue door. Roy complied._

_He was mid-knock when the entrance swung open, slightly, to reveal a woman who, at first, seemed unfamiliar to Roy (which was certainly saying something when you take into account that this is Roy Mustang)._

_She was young, his age, no doubt, but she seemed younger, somehow, with her bangs accenting the right side of her face. Her eyes looked somewhat blurred, like she'd been deprived of sleep for too long. She wore no jewelry to speak of, and her bare hands leaned on the doorway; the long shirt she wore fell to her mid-thighs._

_And she stiffened as she recognized Roy._

_He, in turn, straightened when he realized it was Riza._

_Roy cleared his throat and began to speak, feeling as if he were reading lines from a script, "Hawkeye, I was wondering if you could look over this manuscript for me." As if to convince her (and himself), he held out the thick pamphlet._

_What ever she was expecting, it wasn't what he'd delivered. "Sir, if this is about—wait a sec, M-manuscript? What manuscript?"_

_The door opened a bit further now as she struggled to get a full-view of the paper in his hands. Her amber eyes seemed to be contemplating stealing them from his grasp._

_Roy continued, still on an apparent 'auto-pilot'. "This one. The fuhrer ordered our unit to put on a play, remember?"_

_She snatched the paper from his hands; Mustang half-heard her dismayed cry as she read the title. The truth was that he wasn't listening to her anymore._

_For there, on the middle of her table, was the most delicious-looking, greasy, hot, greasy, fresh, greasy, cheese pizza he'd ever seen in his life. Instinctively, he knew exactly what was to be done._

_He snatched the papers out of her hands and, without even taking the time to get lost in her cloudless honey eyes, he sprang into her pathetically-small apartment, hijacked the pizza, shut the lid on the box, and (within mere milliseconds), was out of her humble abode, avoiding the stairs altogether by jumping off her balcony._

_He was on the ground floor when he heard her shocked outburst. "ROY MUSTANG!!"_

_Now Roy knew he was dreaming; he couldn't EVER recall a time when Hawkeye had called him by his first name. The fact that he was in a fantastical reality, however, did not make him second-guess running away from Riza. He didn't stop for a breather until he was absolutely certain he was outside her firing range._

_Mustang paused a moment, his sharp ears listening on the wind, searching for even the faintest noise that would alert him to being followed. Finding none, he slinked behind a corner and sank onto the gravel, placing the precious box of pizza in his lap as he did so._

_The casual crunch of gravel, coming from inside the alley, made Roy realize that stopping had been a mistake. The shadowy figure stepped out into the dim light of a street lamp, though Roy already knew who it was._

_For a moment, he cursed himself for second-guessing his dream-state by thinking he could hear her approach. If it wasn't reality, of course she could cheat!_

_He looked to her face, searching for some kind of sign that she was okay with his little prank; it struck him as amazing that, even in an outfit that, on anyone else would have been entirely distracting, she could still be menacing._

"_Roy Mustang. You stole my pizza." Her voice was harsh, unrelenting._

"_I-I did." Roy didn't feel like he was reading from a script anymore._

"_Stand up." The Flame alchemist did as he was told, gingerly gripping the cheese pizza in one hand._

"_Now, Mustang, we have three options." Riza continued her strict tirade. "One: You can leave the pizza on the ground and pretend this never happened," her voice dropped and she seemed to speak to herself for a moment, "not likely."_

"_Two: you can force me to force you to surrender the snack." She smiled wickedly._

"_Or, three," she seemed hesitant to list the third option, "we can share…"_

_Roy easily opted for option three. "Well, come here, and we can share this puppy." His obsidian eyes seemed to glisten with relief that his subordinate might be willing to share her food with him. He began to sit back down when—_

"_Uh-uh; stay standing." Riza's voice was still harsh as she walked toward her commanding officer. She walked slowly, not wanting to scare him enough to make him run; her gait was still intimidating, of course, but not as much. Her calloused hands rested on her hips as she approached._

"_H-Hawkeye??" Roy looked a little more alarmed now. Riza was a little too close…than…was…usual…for her…_

_And then she was way too close._

_And then there seemed to be no distance between her and Roy._

_And then there really **was** no distance._

_Riza stood on the tiptoes of her bare feet and, confidently raised her head to meet his, as if she was about to kiss him._

_All Roy could think was how close she was; he didn't notice when her fingers grasped the box. All he knew was that, whatever shampoo she used, it smelled REALLY nice in combination with the pizza…_

_The pizza…_

_Riza…_

_Oh man…_

_In the second that he'd finally relaxed, the pizza was ripped from his grasp. Abruptly uncoordinated, Roy fell into a nearby object (which proved to be a metal garbage can). As he struggled to find a more dignified position, his eyes watched as Riza stood, triumphant, with her pizza in hand. Her amber eyes were aglow with mischief; her smirk was almost tangible as she called out to the Lt. Colonel, already half-way back to her apartment, "See? I knew you'd pick option two."_

Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang snapped to attention, almost immediately aware that he was in the office.

He wasn't almost immediately aware that he wasn't the only one still at the office.

"H-Hawkeye?" his voice sounded…dubious.

"Sir?" Riza was still at her desk, still slaving away over her stack of work. The _**only one**_ still slaving away over her stack of work. Roy wondered where the rest of his employees could be.

"What time is it?"

"Work was over two hours ago, sir." Riza always seemed to know what Roy needed, sometimes before he did.

"Why didn't you wake me up then?"

It was the one question, it seemed, that Hawkeye didn't want to answer. She looked a bit uncomfortable. "Why? Should I have, sir? Did you have a date?"

"No, no. It's just I'm sure you'd rather have gone home two hours ago."

"I had some late work to do here." Her voice was as genuine as ever; always so eager to finish the paperwork, wasn't she? Sometimes, Roy wondered where she got her fervor from.

"Oh…"

A brief silence was shared.

"Riza…" Roy began, pausing, "do you…ever dream about…I don't know…" Roy trailed off as he saw the disbelieving stare Hawkeye was giving him.

"What?" he asked, self-conscious.

"You called me by my name, sir."

"Should I have called you by **mine** or something?" Wrong words—the silence was suddenly awkward.

"No, it's just you called me by my _**first name**_, sir."

"Oh…"

…

…

…

…"Soo…should I walk you home?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to walk you home, _Hawkeye_," Roy enunciated her name, "since I'm the reason you're here so late to begin with."

Riza seemed a little stunned by his proposition; she deliberated a moment before coming to a decision. She opened her mouth but was interrupted by a low growl coming from somewhere between her face and the floor. It was almost with embarrassment that she explained.

"Sorry, sir, I just haven't eaten today."

"Really? That's great. I'm thinking pizza." Roy began briskly stepping towards the door, guiding Riza with his hand (currently at the small of her back).

"Sir??" she sounded floored.

"What, doesn't pizza sound good to you?" He turned to face her and, after seeing his eyes, she forgot her confusion.

"Lead on, sir." She smiled and the two walked out of the office.

* * *

A/N: I think this chapter concludes the 'dream' series; we already delved into Riza's a few chapters ago (which this one was inspired by)...Will try to update a little sooner next chapter.

I really, really hope you liked this. Review if you did.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Enjoy!**

* * *

**

**Schemes**

"No, no, no. We can't do that _**that way**_, it's much too obvious. We'd get caught and court-martialed!"

"Right, right…well, what do you suggest we do then, newbie?"

"Well…if we got Lieutenant Hawkeye in on this—"

"Yeah right, there's no way she'd be on our side. She's all for protocol, and this is most distinctly against Regulation 598, Subs—"

"Yeah, yeah. We all know you swallowed the handbook, Falman. What we don't know is how in the world to pull this sucker off."

"I think, Lieutenant Breda, that I understood what you said. But I'm not exactly sure—it's really hard to catch what you're saying when you've got all that food in your mouth…"

"I _enjoy_ my food, Falman. Leave me alone. Now, what are we going to do about this very large problem? We have to be swift, but it cannot be traceable."

"I still think Lieutenant Hawkeye would be helpful to have on our side."

"She always sides with commands. You know that. Especially when the Boss's concerned…"

"Aahh, jealous much, Havoc?"

"Eat your sandwich and think, Breda."

"Yes, sir! And while I'm at it, why don't I borrow your lighter for a day…"

"You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"This is completely off the point. We still have no solution to our complicated problem. I suggest that we do research on traditional methods to—"

"No."

"Why shouldn't w—"

"No."

"But we could—"

"No."

"Sirs…what if we…" the voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as Fuery laid out his schemes for his superiors.

"That's…original."

"…Boss won't see it coming." It was obvious by the mischievous smile on Havoc's face that he approved.

"I like it—short and sweet. But how will contact him?"

"I have a plan." Fuery looked around the room, checking for spies, before resuming, "All right, sirs, then this is what we'll do: two days from now…"

_

* * *

_

_Later that week..._

Roy Mustang was minding his own business, going about his day at the usual pace. He was running ten minutes late for work (as usual), had to go the scenic route to avoid some of his more dutiful fans (as usual), and knew very well that Hawkeye would be tapping her foot and fingering her gun when he got to work half an hour late (as usual).

All in all, it was a perfectly average morning. Roy ran a gloved hand through his hair—nervous habit—and boldly walked into his office, an excuse already on his tongue.

"Hawkeye, I know I'm late, but honestly, did you see the traffic?"

He finished his statement before he realized there was no Hawkeye in the room. Actually, there was no one in the room other than himself.

Wait a second, this wasn't even his office! It was a broom cupboard!

A very small broom cupboard.

Someone was going to pay.

Roy turned to open the door. It was locked. Frustrated, he took a step back, prepared to burn the whole thing down.

His polished military-boots tripped a nearly invisible wire. The string was elaborately connected to various wooden pulleys, one of which, Roy realize a second too late, was the only thing supporting a bucket of water.

A moment later, a very soaked Roy Mustang found himself blinking rivulets of freezing water out of his obsidian eyes. Someone was going to pay _dearly_ as soon as he got out of this closet.

This closet…

…how could he get out?

Without the means for alchemy, Mustang was in a very humiliating, awkward situation, standing in the broom cupboard, dripping water, and waiting for help.

After several hours, and false alarms, Roy heard the most beautiful sound in the world—his subordinates! Coming to rescue him! He almost forgot to be angry about his plight as he eavesdropped on them.

"Lieutenant Havoc, I still don't understand why you want me to look in the broom cupboard."

"The office's a mess, Hawkeye." Even Havoc's whine sounded good to Mustang who was, by now, sick of standing in the closet.

"Well, why can't you get it yourself. I have paperwork to do." Good old Riza, always so dedicated. Now please hurry up and open the door!

"Because, Hawkeye, I don't like spiders."

"You're an arachnophobe?"

"…Something like that." Hold on a second…was Havoc hitting on Riza?

"Okay, Lieutenant, then why don't you explain to me just why the rest of our unit is following us to the broom cupboard." Forget the rest of the unit; why was Havoc—First Lieutenant Jean Havoc—hitting on _**his**_ Hawkeye?!

"Because, we all want to…help clean?"

"Sure." The sarcasm was evident. Not wanting to argue pointlessly, Riza opened the door to the janitor's closet.

An almost blinding light greeted the Flame Alchemist's waterlogged eyes. Gee, he'd almost forgotten what a fluorescent looked like.

As the entire unit—the Full Metal Alchemist included—burst into laughter (Riza was no exception), Roy glared. Within one morning, he'd lost a perfectly good pair of spark gloves, much of his dignity, some of his claim on Hawkeye, and, most recently, his temper.

"I want to know who turned my office into a closet!" And why you, Havoc, are hitting on your superior officer when you all know she is **mine**. (He didn't add the last part, of course; Riza was still there.)

More snickering from the men. "Sir," Fuery replied, struggling to contain himself. "Your office is on the other side of the building."

"What?" Roy snapped.

Ed smirked—he thought he'd done a pretty good job rigging it. Roy caught his expression.

"Full Metal! You had something to do with this!"

"Something, yes. Give credit where credit is due, Mustang." Came the smug response. The Full Metal Alchemist was glad the prank had worked out so well. If it hadn't, and the officers had woken him up that early without any point…he would have been pretty angry…

Roy glared at his subordinates, excepting one. The ensemble ignored him for moment, then ran away to do paperwork or find the Philosopher's Stone, respectively.

"Hawkeye…" She certainly was loyal, the only one still here to face probably reprimand. And she was probably the only one not involved in the practical joke.

"Sir?"

Roy smirked; his anger long forgotten now that he'd vented. The jealousy was still there, but in much milder form. "It's just you and me and a broom cupboard…" Roy started, knowing it was in vain (but still hoping a little).

"Sir, request permission to speak freely."

"Granted."

"I think you're all wet." Riza gave him a teasing smile, before herself trotting off to work. Mustang followed soon after.

* * *

A/N: yay! another chapter! 

I hope you liked it. Please review--they inspire me further!


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: I'm sorry about the long update.

I hope that this chapter was worth the wait.

* * *

**Speculation**

All the men in the office noticed when Riza walked in that morning.

She came in humming contentedly to herself. Over the years that Havoc had worked with her, he couldn't remember a single occasion in which the Lieutenant had been in such an ecstatic mood. She all but skipped to her desk. Hayate trotted behind her, easily picking up and imitating the mood of his master, as was tradition for all loyal canines.

Breda noticed the scent. Hawkeye drifted past his desk, and at first he had to remind himself who it was. He did a double take, assuring that, yes, this was the Lieutenant. You can't blame him. In all his years of service, he'd never seen Riza—or, rather, smelled Riza wearing perfume. He didn't even think she knew what it was.

Fuery, the youngest and most attracted to shiny objects, noticed her jewelry. Instead of her usual round earrings, Riza was wearing long dangles, ornate semi-precious stones hanging from the chains.

It was Falman, the most observant, who noticed that she was wearing heels. With his straight posture and lean form, he always appeared to be the tallest in the unit (though this title actually belonged to Havoc). Vato usually towered over Riza, but today she seemed closer to his height. And the clicking of non-boots as she walked past informed him of the cause.

They pooled by the water cooler.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye was in heels." Falman started the topic straightforwardly.

"Yeah, and she was humming." Havoc's eyes were narrowed in deep thought. He was still raking his memory banks for any other occasion when the Lieutenant had been that happy.

"Did any of you notice her jewelry?" Fuery supplied. The others shook their heads.

"And she was wearing perfume."

The other officers looked at Breda weirdly. Havoc voiced the unspoken question. "How do you know that?"

Breda shrugged. "I have a good sense of smell."

Havoc leaned to Fuery and whispered, "Comes from all the sandwich selecting."

Fuery stifled a snicker as Falman spoke.

"So why do you think she was—"

"—dolled up? Beats me. Maybe she has a date," Breda interrupted off-handedly.

A moment passed while the males attempted to imagine their Riza Hawkeye on a date. Silence engulfed the water cooler before suddenly the area exploded with noise. All of them spoke at once.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye on a date?"

"Weird."

"We should protect her. Wait, no, it's Hawkeye, she can do that herself."

"Should we tell the boss?"

"Tell me what?"

Havoc, Fuery, Breda, and Falman froze, acting like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. They turned, slowly, fearing their superior. His arms were crossed, and a vein visibly throbbed in his temple. His jaw was set and no one felt like explaining.

"Well?" Mustang was impatient; the toe of his boots began pounding a tempo on the tile flooring. "Tell me what?"

Havoc volunteered a, for once, truthful answer. "That Hawkeye has a date tonight."

"And?" his voice remained in irritated monotone, but his teeth ground.

"And…doesn't that bother you, sir?" Fuery meekly asked. Breda supported him with, "Yeah, don't you two have some kind of thing going on?"

Falman and Havoc winced. Roy's obsidian eyes glinted dangerously. "There is no "thing" between Lieutenant Hawkeye and myself. Anyone who claims otherwise can talk to me about it. Now, as for her date, it is her business, and you four should not meddle." It was not an order, but more of a threat. Mustang turned on heel and marched back to his desk, his stance too tense even for a military officer.

"Ch. Like the boss has any right to order us to leave dates alone." Havoc grumbled, the last beauty Mustang had stolen on his mind. "Anyways, guys, we've got to do something about the date."

"Why, Havoc? What's it to you?" Breda asked. Fuery and Falman watched for the reaction closely.

"Because, Breda, if Hawkeye's seeing someone else, it means she can't see the boss. And if she can't see the boss, the boss will always be a bachelor. And if the boss is always a bachelor, then he'll always steal my dates, and that wouldn't be any fun. So the solution to my loneliness is in finding the boss a long-term companion, and the only woman I know who can put up with him for more than ten minutes is Hawkeye."

"Wow, Lieutenant Havoc," Falman stared wide-eyed at his comrade. "That actually sounded…thought-out."

"Why, thank you, Falman. Now, newbie," Jean turned to Fuery, "you have a creative mind. Any ideas as to how to ruin Riza's date."

Fuery paused a moment, his hands cupping his bare chin in the universal thinking pose. "Well…I can't think of anything right now…but only because we don't know that much about the situation…"

"Could we ask Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Falman questioned; it was the simple solution.

"Fat chance. She'd be onto us immediately. No, we can't."

Havoc added while Fuery thought. "Breda's right, we can't ask her. But we can always follow her after work, can't we? I mean, most of us leave the office earlier than her, anyways. It wouldn't be that difficult."

Breda challenged, "It's Hawkeye, she's got instinct. It'd be a lot harder than you think, Havoc. Plus, what if she leaves the office early for her date?"

"Then I'm sure that we can all think of plausible excuses to get out, too." Falman answered. "We'll just have to be extra cautious."

"If that's the case, and we follow her after work…" Fuery concluded, schemes building in his sharp mind. "Then we can easily monitor, and alter, the happenings of her evening. Meet here at the cooler at the end of the day."

* * *

The guys met up as planned, and, after waiting another hour, watched as Hawkeye left work, clad in civilian clothes.

Fuery leaned over to his coconspirators. "She must have used the women's locker room to change for her date."

"No, duh, newbie."

Without another sound, with several meters between them and their friend, the men followed Riza to a ritzy Xingese diner on the edge of East City. It was crowded, but Hawkeye was seated on a back patio. It was all too easy to watch what transpired from the ground.

"So far, so good. Fuery, what's next?" Havoc was acting as team leader, the newbie was his strategist.

"We wait for her date to come."

So they waited. And waited. And waited. Their only comfort in waiting was knowing that Riza was waiting too.

After an hour of waiting, one of the waiters approached Riza and whispered something to her. She listened and nodded understandingly, politely thanking the man for his efforts.

"Do you think she got stood-up?" Breda asked as he munched on one of his packed sandwiches.

"Who, Hawkeye? Nah, not with the way she looks tonight." Havoc was right. Their only female coworker was stunning in the deep red evening gown. The long earrings she wore were eclipsed by cascades of her honey blonde hair, released from its barrette at last. Her amber eyes were lined heavily and, even from the bushes that they'd set up camp, Riza was gorgeous. Havoc finished his thought, "He'd be an idiot to stand her up."

"Indeed he would, Havoc."

The four froze in place, turning slowly, again, to find their leader towering over them. In contrast to the four's camouflaged clothes and face paint, Roy donned a black suit, its dark satin matching his eyes perfectly.

"Boss…" Havoc managed as his group quailed on him (Fuery looked ready to faint). "What are you doing here."

"No, Havoc, the question is what are you four doing here, beneath a very exclusive restaurant, hiding in the bushes."

"Sir, Hawkeye's there on her date…" Fuery began, interrupted when Breda smacked his hand over the boy's mouth, too late.

"I thought I told you that Riza's business is her own." There was such menace in his voice, none of the men thought to question that he'd called her by her first name. "Now, get out of here before there's a bonfire, understand?"

They complied, disappearing into the four directions within a second. Roy sighed, running his, for once, ungloved hand through his messy bangs. The night air calmed his frustration and his nerves and, after another moment, he walked to the restaurant.

After all, he had a date, and he'd already kept her waiting an hour.

* * *

A/N: I love imagining Roy calling Riza by her first name for some odd reason... 

note that Xing is a country in the manga. It is not mentioned in the anime (that I know of), but the main point of mentioning it in this fiction was to imply that they were going to enjoy foreign food.

So, how was this chapter? Please review, and tell me what you think of it. I hope you enjoyed it.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: so this chapter might be shorter than my others...

it suddenly occurred to me that, while I may have tons of what Roy and Riza do when it's raining, I hadn't described what the subordinates do. Hence, this chapter.

and it's been forever since I've updated, hasn't it? I hope this chapter's worth the wait

* * *

**The Joys of Hosting**

During days like this, Fuery firmly wished that his apartment was not the Animal Refugee Committee Meeting Center of Eastern Amestris.

Days like this, he thought to himself, should be spent indoors. When the weather was so dreadfully wet, so entirely muddy, everyone, working or otherwise, should curl up under a blanket and read. Have friends over. Eat turkey.

…As if.

Currently juggling about seven empty and three unopened bottles of the cheapest beer, Fuery tripped into the kitchen, trying not to step on any spare paws. Jeers and boos from his pathetically small 'living room' erupted and he could hear popcorn, hats, marshmallows, chicken legs, chips, and other strange concoctions being tossed at the radio. It was soccer season and East City was losing. Badly.

"Newbie—more booze!"

"I agree."

"Kid, if you don't get this puppy off me…"

"Booze!"

"Seconded."

"Scram!"

"NO! THEY SCORED AGAIN!"

"Mew!"

"AGH!!! GET THIS PUPPY OFF!!"

"Lt. Breda, that is a cat."

"Oh…"

"Lighten up, Falman. We're off duty. Booze?"

"Coming!" the exhausted youth called from the door of his kitchen/bathroom (the combination made no sense to the tenants; only the builder). He tossed the numerous bottles into the sink, not bothering to sort them.

Whatever happened to curling up with a good book, anyways?

"Booze!"

"Coming!"

Then, as the young officer grabbed ten or so more beverages, the unthinkable happened.

The radio went silent.

"WHAT?!! NO, NO, NO!! THERE'S ONLY THREE MINUTES LEFT IN THE GAME!! YOU CAN'T STATIC OUT!!! NO!!!" Havoc began to shout at the sad appliance.

Falman began digging around for wires; Breda stopped panicking about the kitten and moved on to bigger fish. Fuery handed out the (now even more) needed drinks. Mumbled curses came from the radio stand as Havoc and Falman fished around for more cables. Their host sank, exhausted, into a recliner.

"Newbie, come help! Isn't this your area of expertise?" Havoc called; a small crash echoed as the military officer knocked over a vase.

Fuery closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. "No, there's nothing I can do. The station's out, thanks to the storm. It's not the radio—it's the wavelength that's the problem."

"Okay…so, now what?" Falman asked while Havoc simply gawked at the thought of no soccer score updates.

Breda scratched the cat in his lap absentmindedly (the predicament causing him to temporarily forget his fear of pets). The feline immediately began purring. "Poker?"

"I'm in."

"Game. What's the limit?"

"I'll go get the cards…" Fuery staggered off to find his deck of cards. He was beginning to hate this routine of skipping work every time it rained. Honestly, what the Lt. Colonel and Lt. Hawkeye were doing without them…

(which is another story)

He returned to a very strange scene, considering he'd been gone for thirty seconds. Within that very small amount of time, his 'guests' had somehow managed to find, and set up, a poker table, a hanging lamp, a neon sign, and four fold-out chairs.

Breda and Havoc were even handing out cigars. To think, his mother had made him join the military to become more disciplined…

Fuery didn't question—he just sat down at his designated seat. One eventually got used to the antics of the military unit. Instant set-ups were just one among many hidden skills.

His favorite calico cat (named Tailess for obvious reasons) crashed the poker games no less than seven times. Each time the kitty had to be picked up, placed on the ground, scolded, then shooed. Each time, the chips somehow managed to end up scattered in Breda's favor. Each time, Falman miraculously got the best winning hand EVER. Each time, Havoc yelled at Falman until they decided to redo the round.

By the tenth game, the host had fallen asleep. By the eighteenth game, Breda had oddly 'lost his wallet'. By the twenty-first game, Falman claimed it was too boring to play one-on-one with Havoc. By the thirtieth game, Havoc had played nine straight games with a cat, and the whiskered one was the winner of each one.

By the thirtieth game, Fuery had the richest cat in EHQ, East City's soccer team had lost by a record-setting amount, and Fuery's apartment sink had managed to catch fire.

Oh, and it stopped raining. Fancy that.

* * *

A/N: lol; poor Fuery.

Review please?

only one more chapter to go before this ficlet is finished...


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: to those of you who've reviewed this story since its early chapters:  
THANK YOU! This story would be incomplete, literally, without you.

btw: what's your favorite chapter?

* * *

**Driver's Ed**

The engine shifted through its two gears loudly, its utter noisiness and stress a clear reflection of its driver's.

"Shoot," she muttered as she backpedaled on the brakes, screeching to a full twenty miles per hour. Riza felt the oddest sense of nostalgia, remembering the days of her childhood when she'd ride a horse in a similar fashion.

She'd had no more control then than she did now.

The clutch groaned audibly as she struggled to get the silly invention in gear.

"Hawkeye, back off the gas a bit." Roy's usually calm tenor was slightly alarmed, possibly disturbed as he closely monitored his lieutenant's attempt at driving. Every time she'd try to shift gears, she drove the stick too hard, and the engine stalled. Riza would try again, but she would go faster each time. The engine was reaching its limit and Mustang did NOT want to be sued for damages.

"I'm trying, sir, but it's not working." She spoke through her clenched teeth, her eyebrows pulled into a frustrated glare as again she strove with the transmission.

All this because Roy had to decide he was sick of being his own chauffeur. How wonderful it would be if Hawkeye could drive him around everywhere. Then he wouldn't have to do anything! Anything at all!

How wonderful it would be to be skipping out on this drivers ed.

The engine started to groan louder as the speedometer pushed the first drive further than it should. For some reason, the groans did not fully cover Riza's growl.

"Hawkeye, don't you know how to drive a tank?" He asked with some incredulity as he shrank further into the sink.

"Yes, sir, but this…_thing_…is. Not. A. Tank."

Then Riza pressed the gas too hard, and again, the engine stalled. She muttered some words against the wind, and turned the ignition.

Nothing.

Again; the engine turned over.

Nothing.

Her amber eyes widened. Roy looked around.

They were in the middle of nowhere.

No—worse. They were in the middle of the Eastern Desert.

* * *

Fuery juggled two pairs of pliers, wiping his fogged glasses on one muck-covered sleeve and still coming out the better for it.

East City's long weeks of deluge had been, of course, followed by weeks of drought. The ground had hardened and cracked; streams were starting to run low. While a month ago, outages across headquarters had been caused by never-ending thunderstorms, now the newbie found himself battling the waves of heat that overcooked the cooling systems of so many vital systems.

Air conditioning, for example.

Perhaps if you haven't spent a week in a small, cramped office room with five other people, four of them male, and a dog, you cannot sympathize with the young officer. But if you have, and you vividly remember it, then you no doubt can.

So Fuery was fixing the cooling system.

Quickly.

Hayate wasn't really helping, barking as he was. Kain didn't know what was up with the mutt; he usually enjoyed being in military company, even without his master. Today, though, the dog would not stop howling eastward. It was kind of distracting.

Now, how did that course teach it again? Red wire connects to the cooling terminal; it can be found at the bottom right of the terminal…or was it left?

Hadn't Mustang and Hawkeye gone eastward on their 'drive'?

No, no—it was in the middle, towards the right. Red wire, green outlet.

How long had they been gone now?

Uh, uh, uh, Fuery. Stay on the subject: next, pour the coolant down the access tap.

Just how much gas could that little car hold, anyways?

Fuery knew the answer: not much.

Without stopping to vent the excess oils or finish connections, Fuery grabbed Hayate and ran back to the base at top speed.

* * *

"They should be coming."

"Yes, sir."

"Any moment now."

"Yes, sir."

"They know we're gone, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you even listening?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know this is all your fault."

"Yes, sir."

"Are they here yet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Really?"

"No, sir."

Roy scowled and stopped pacing, shooting a glare at his suddenly disrespectful subordinate. Riza was strewn against the seat backs, still sitting in the car's cab. Her neck craned back, laying her head against the top of the driver's side. The heat was starting to make her hair loose itself from her tight barrette's iron grasp.

As bad as the situation was, some part of Mustang was rather giddy that Riza had taken the military over-suit off. He preferred brown, anyways.

Riza's fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, a sure sign of a migraine. Roy had been pacing in circles, his fingers snapping nervously, gloveless. She'd taken them from him after he'd almost set the broken-down car alight. But the noise got a bit repetitive after a time, and it was started to chafe her nerves.

"You'll use up your internal water faster if you keep pacing, sir."

"Uh-huh…They're coming, aren't they?"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Panting, Fuery darted up the long flight of entrance stairs. He reached the top, forgot a step, tripped dizzily, and passed out on the sidewalk, Hayate pinned under his arm.

* * *

"Hawkeye, what time is it?"

"I don't know, sir."

"When will they get here?"

"I don't know, sir."

"They have noticed we're missing, haven't they?"

"I don't know, sir."

Night was falling, and most of the day had gone in this fashion. Roy would ask a question; Riza would answer in about three words.

"Hawkeye—"

"No, sir. Whatever it is, no sir." She loved Roy, but sometimes…how could a grown man be so whiny?

Roy fell silent, his face pulling into a proud form of pout. "You're mad at me?"

Riza sat up, her first movement in hours. She squinted out into the dusky midnight, trying to make out Mustang's expression. "No, R—Mustang, I'm not mad. I'm annoyed, and maybe a bit frustrated. After all, I'm part of the reason that we're stuck here."

Roy nodded, not quite appeased. "But, I'm also part of the reason we're here."

"You _are_ the commander," Riza pointed out.

He smirked, nodding again. "Yes, I am."

Riza half-smiled, leaning back into the fake leather of the car bench. She fought back a shiver; without any protection, the desert temperature could drop like a stone.

"Hawkeye…" he began; she sighed.

"I thought we already went through this, sir."

"We did, but there's a speck moving toward us."

"A speck."

"Actually, it's more of a moving dot."

"Great."

"It's a dot with headlights."

It took a minute for that to register with the heat-exhausted pair.

"WE'RE SAVED!"

They leapt to their feet, and, without a second though, hugged each other.

Then they came to their senses, realized that their subordinates had seen that, then awkwardly distanced themselves from each other, coughing.

"Lets—

"Never do that again, sir."

"Exactly."

Rather rigidly, the two stood at attention and waited for their rescue party to rescue them.

* * *

"So…tell us, how did you know to find us, Fuery?" Riza asked. An hour later, after a warm cup of tea and avowing never again to take drivers ed with Roy, she was feeling more communicative.

"Oh…" Here, Fuery shot Hayate a knowing look, "I have my ways."

* * *

A/N: on that note... 

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER REVIEWED THIS STORY!


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